Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich
Violin Concertos. Ilya Gringolts, violin; Itzhak Perlman conducting
the Israel Philharmonic. (Deutsche Grammophon, 471 616-2)
Mendelssohn, Shostakovich
Violin Concertos. Hilary Hahn, violin; Marek Janowski (Shostakovich)
and Hugh Wolff (Mendelssohn) conducting the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra.
(Sony Classical, SK 89921)
With these recent releases
we find two different approaches to the Shostakovich Violin Concerto
No. 1, both good. It's interesting that this concerto has become a vehicle
for young violinists; Midori, Vengerov, and Repin all recorded it between
1994 and 1995, and now we have this pair.
American violinist Hilary
Hahn, 22, plays Shostakovich's dark, devastating concerto a little slower
in the slow movements and a lot faster in the fast movements than Russian
Ilya Gringolts, 20. Hahn's performance is the more harrowing of the
two; Gringolts' is the more expressive.
In the long, opening Nocturne,
Gringolts plays with well-placed portamento, something Hahn entirely
eschews. Hahn's approach sounds more angular and modern than Gringolts',
which is a more human moan and cry. In the Scherzo, Hahn emphasizes
the desperation; Gringolts' tone here is harsher, but he shrieks less
than Hahn (shrieking is entirely appropriate in this music), and is
more suave in the movement’s passages of grotesquerie.
Gringolts turns in a consistently
desolate Passacaglia, whereas Hahn begins in deep sorrow but without
suggesting that all is lost, by the end of the movement growing more
intense than Gringolts. She begins the cadenza lyrically, becoming more
impassioned toward the end. Gringolts is stark from the beginning, without
vibrato, providing a greater feeling of isolation with more dynamic
contrast between phrases.
In the final Burlesque,
Gringolts again displays a great sense of the grotesque and turns in
a frantic finale. Hahn is more emotionally controlled and defiant; her
finale has less psychology, more bravura.
If you splice Hahn's Scherzo
and Passacaglia between Gringolts' outer movements and cadenza, you'll
have an ideal post-Oistrakh Shostakovich First. As it is, you have two
very strong contenders appealing to different tastes.
If coupling is the deciding
factor, Gringolts has the edge with a wonderful reading of the Tchaikovsky
concerto. Not a high-strung virtuoso
treatment, this is affectionate and playful, with a nice, old-fashioned
way of scooping into some notes. Itzhak Perlman coaxes the Israel Philharmonic
into a more interestingly characterized accompaniment than many full-time
conductors can manage.
Hahn traverses the Mendelssohn
concerto with mixed results. She relaxes in the first movement's second
theme group and has a sentimental way with the Andante, but otherwise
maintains a brisk forward momentum that becomes so rushed in the finale
that her articulation is sometimes unclear.
Anglicana. Eliza
Carthy, fiddle, octave violin, piano, vocals; Martin Carthy, guitar;
Ben Ivitsky, viola, guitar; Jon Boden, fiddle; Tim van Eyken, melodeon,
guitar; Barnaby Stradling, acoustic bass; Norma Waterson, vocals; Will
Duke, concertina; Dan Quinn, melodeon; Maria Gilhooley, vocals. (Topic
Records, 539)
Eliza Carthy, daughter of
British-folk heavyweights Martin Carthy and Norma Waterson, is one of
the brightest young players on the British folk scene. A fine fiddler
and engaging singer with a distinctive, dark voice, Carthy—along
with fellow folkie and guitarist Kate Rusby—is a poster child for
the new generation of talented U.K. players exploring traditional music.
She sports a pierced chin and ever-changing hair color (blue, red, or
blonde). Her last album, Angels & Cigarettes (Warner Bros.,
47698) released in 2000, gave fans a bit of a fright as Carthy garbed
her original songs in aggressive rock and jazz arrangements. Anglicana
is a welcomed return to her roots. Here, Carthy draws on the early 20th-century
wax cylinders of Joseph Taylor and other traditional song sources for
an often haunting and always entertaining collection of murder ballads,
sad songs, jigs, and dance tunes. The arrangements are sparse, her technique
subtle. On the "No Man's Jig/Hanoverian Dance/Three Jolly Sheepskins"
medley—the first and third tunes taken from the longsword dance
tradition of Sleights in Yorkshire—she ricochets briskly. On "Just
as the Tide was Flowing" (a song once set by Ralph Vaughan Williams),
Carthy sings sweetly of lost love while her octave violin and Ben Ivitsky's
viola weave a delicate tapestry set against a droning melodeon. Whether
solemn or spry, Carthy has a sure way with a fiddle and a folk song.
This one's a keeper.
—Greg
Cahill
Mahler: Symphony No.
5 in C-Sharp Minor. Sir Simon Rattle conducting the Berlin Philharmonic.
(EMI, 557385 2)
Sir Simon Rattle took over
the Berlin Philharmonic this past fall, and you'd think the English
had just won World War II again to judge from their typically boosterish
press reports. EMI rushed to market a CD containing the principal work
on Rattle’s inaugural concert, Mahler's Symphony No. 5. Despite
what we've heard from across the pond, this is not the last word on
Mahler's Fifth—for that, trust Bernstein—but it is a highly
creditable account.
Rattle's way with Mahler
is hot and dramatic, like Bernstein's, as opposed to the sane and stable
mainstream efforts of conductors like Haitink. In other words, Rattle
bravely accepts Mahler on his own neurotic terms. The one drawback is
that Rattle sometimes becomes so preoccupied with the compelling details
that he neglects to make them cohere. Still, moment to moment, this
is an excellent performance.
The recording favors the
Berlin Philharmonic's glorious strings, putting the other sections at
a slight disadvantage.
–J.R.
Max Reger, Cello Sonatas
Nos. 2 and 3. Reimund Korupp, violoncello; Rudolf Meister, piano.
(CPO, 999 884-2)
It is said that composer
Max Reger laid the foundation for 20th-century music and for the radical
changes introduced by Arnold Schoenberg (just one year younger than
Reger). And that impending shift can be felt in Reger's plaintive Cello
Sonata No. 3 Op. 78. Often overlooked in favor of its better-known cousin,
the Violin Concerto in C Major Op. 72, the Cello Sonata No. 3 exhibits
a touch of Brahms in its dark gloominess, but it is the complex nature
of the harmonic relationship between cello and piano that over the years
has presented players with fits of frustration. Reimund Korupp–the
last student of Rudolf Metzmacher and descendant in a direct musical
line that leads back to such great German cellists as Hugo Becker and
Julius Klengel—seems particularly well suited to meet these
challenges. Here the third sonata is teamed up with the brighter—and
somewhat less interesting—Cello Sonata in G Minor Op. 2,
Caprice & Kleine Romanze Op. 79e, and the brisk Caprice in A Minor.
—G.C.
Grimborg. Gjallarhorn:
Jenny Wilhelms, vocals, fiddle, Hardanger fiddle; Adrian Jones, viola,
mandola, kalimba; Sara Puljula, double bass, percussion; Tommy Mansikka-Aho,
didgeridoo, slideridoo, jaw harp. (NorthSide, NSD 6070)
Gjallarhorn (pronounced
"Yallarhorn") hails from Ostrobothnia, the Swedish-speaking
part of Finland, and takes its name from the horn that gatekeeper Heimdal
used to send messages from the other gods of Asgård to the humans
of Midgård. Entering a grimborg was an old Finnish ritual in which
people trod stone mazes. The word grímr means concealing, and
borg stands for the stronghold, the dwelling. According to the band's
website (www.gjallarhorn.com), the medieval ballads on this album are
all about transformations: "to hide one's true face, to conquer
obstacles on the way, to discover the underground/the subconscious,
and to finally rediscover one's right element." From the opening
track, this is a captivating listen. Jenny Wilhelms, who studied at
the Sibelius Academy, the Grieg Academy, and the Ole Bull Academy, has
a voice that's pure delight without ever being cloying. Her fiddling
is fine as well, often pairing with Adrian Jones' viola playing in what
the band refers to as "octavation." On more heavily arranged
numbers, the world-beat percussion and seemingly out-of-character drones
from Down Under seem a perfect fit. In contrast, a simple, plaintive
duet of viola and voice on "Ack Lova Gud (Oh Praise the Lord)"
is stunningly beautiful. There are calls to gods and calls to cows.
That's right, cows. "Kulning (Cow Calling)" is nearly indescribable:
Think screechingly high trumpet, then realize it's a human voice. It
would be excruciating if it weren't so amazing. A ballad called "Vallevan"
again showcases the viola, in an obbligato that begins with eerie harmonics
that morph into a driving accompaniment to Wilhelm’s insistent
vocals. Several instrumentals punctuate the songs, including a set of
three tunes in a row: a stately "Polonaise" (one of various
treble-meter forms that turn up in the music of Scandinavia); "Menuette,"
which begins in a similar rhythm but throws the occasional rhythmic
curve ball, as though the dancers have extra feet; and "Njawara,"
a peppy 4/4 romp. Later, the second of another pair of tunes, "Frøysnen/Soteroen,"
similarly challenges those who would try to count beats. Just nod or
tap your foot, you'll be fine.
—Elisa
M. Welch
Vengerov Plays Bach,
Shchedrin, Ysaye. Maxim Vengerov, violin. (EMI, 57384 2)
Only now edging into his
late 20s, violinist Maxim Vengerov already has established a solid reputation
for his opulent tone and intense playing. All of that is evident in
this new, Bach-haunted CD. The sole Bach piece—and its authenticity
is questionable—is the Toccata and Fugue in D minor for organ,
in a splendid A-minor edition for solo violin by Bruce Fox-Lefriche.
Vengerov plays this (on a Baroque violin) with both abandon and precision,
finding every link between the High Baroque and Late Romanticism.
Ysaye's Sonata No. 2 weaves
a Bach quotation through its first movement, but the dominant theme
throughout is the Gregorian Dies Irae. Vengerov's performance is wonderfully
nightmarish, and his versions of three of Ysaye's other five Bach-inspired
solo sonatas are equally impressive and detailed. Just listen to the
hairpin dynamic turns in No. 3, and the impeccable intonation in even
the most difficult passages.
Vengerov delivers a fearless
rendition of Shchedrin's prickly 1985 Echo Sonata, which also briefly
quotes Bach, and offers as an encore a live performance of Shchedrin's
little pizzicato piece, Balalaika. Anguished playing of disturbing music
makes for a compelling program, best heard late at night, in the dark.
—J.R.
The Last Night of the
Proms. DVD. Hilary Hahn, violin; Jane Eaglen, soprano; BBC Symphony
Orchestra and Chorus with Sir Andrew Davis, conductor. (BBC Radio 3,
OA0851)
The last night of the Proms
is one of the most celebrated international music events, the culmination
of an eight-week concert series that is regarded as the pinnacle of
British classical music patronage (now supervised by the BBC). It's
a tradition-bound ritual that is without comparison in the colonies.
This newly released DVD captures the last night of the Proms 2000, which
also marked the last appearance of Sir Andrew Davis at the helm of the
mighty BBC Symphony Orchestra. There is much to marvel at here. Then-20-year-old
violinist Hilary Hahn delivers commanding performances of Bach's Fantasia
and Fugue in C Minor and Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Minor, and Mozart's
Violin Concerto No. 4 in D Major. There is a world premiere of Shostakovich's
Jazz Suite No. 2 orchestrated by Gerard McBurney. And there are interviews,
speeches, sea songs, and more Union Jacks than you can shake a flagpole
at. The DVD also features a music-only option.
—G.C.
