A Survey of Prokofiev Symphony Cycles

► An Index of ionarts Discographies

Continuing my discographies, this is a survey of — hopefully — every extant recorded cycle of the Sergei Prokofiev symphonies. They are listed in chronological order of completion. This should include all cycles, whether they were issued as such or not, including those where multiple conductors were at work on it. (Incidentally, there’s only one incidence in Prokofiev of that, as far as I know.) I have heard many of these and possibly at least some symphonies of most of them, but hardly all of them. Comments on what you like or dislike about any given cycle are very much appreciated — be it below (where they might take a while to be noticed) on Twitter, or best: in both places.

On a personal note: It has rather taken me a while to really get into Sergei Prokofiev’s symphonies. I didn’t find them particularly attractive propositions before I even had known them well. I remember a friend, classically inclined, yes, but she had less exposure to it than I and far, far fewer CDs, of course. But, somehow, she had the Walter Weller set of the symphonies on Decca. (This was at a time when you did not, could not frivolously add sets to your collection.) I was very impressed, surprised, and mildly envious: If she has them, should not I, too, be into these works? Maybe she is more serious about this music than she lets on... etc. But somehow I also figured that if even Decca couldn’t come up with a more notable name than this Weller-guy, whoever that may be, to record these symphonies with, the works can’t be all that. (I don’t mean to throw shade at the perfectly wonderful Walter Weller – but that’s how I naïvely felt, at the time.)

Also, there simply was not that much attention paid to Prokofiev, outside the popular 1st and 5th symphonies. In the early Aughts, there really were only Weller, Ozawa, and Rostropovich easily available as sets. Rozhdestvensky and Martinon hadn’t made the jump to CD; Košler was essentially unavailable in the West. Gergiev came in 2004, at least, while Neeme Järvi wasn’t re-issued as a price-saving box until 2008. Naxos had Kuchar’s cycle available as an all-Prokofiev “White Box”, but generally it was sold on single discs and, at the time, confined to the budget bins in record stores. A newer major cycle, with Vladimir Ashkenazy conducting the LSO, RCO, and Cleveland, only got up to four symphonies on Decca.

Now the situation looks a little different. Granted, there haven’t been any sets by the big companies or the most famous orchestras. Ashkenazy threw his hat into the ring, after all, but “only” with the Sydney Symphony” and on Exton, which means that the recordings are either difficult to attain or afford. Kitayenko/Cologne, Karabits, Alsop (in a new cycle for Naxos from São Paulo), Gaffigan, and, probably the most promising of them in a long, long time, Litton from Bergen on BIS.

Several others are on the way, it seems, and some lie strewn on the wayside, incomplete but too good to ignore, so I have included them. One of the more important of these (at the time, at least, and largely for the concertos) is probably Erich Leinsdorf’s Boston non-cycle. At least Sony did box his Prokofiev recordings, which also include the piano concertos with John Browning, the Violin Concertos (Friedman & Perlman), R&J excerpts and the Lieutenant Kijé Suite. That is more (from Sony) than can be said about the Ormandy-Prokofiev (who recorded 5 symphonies). The Gergiev/Mariinsky cycle on the orchestra’s own label can probably be considered abandoned, for the time being, even if recordings of the remaining symphonies were made. Vadim Jurowski, Petrenko (Vasily, not yet Kyrill, alas), Inkinen, and Sokhiev are working on cycles, it seems; Noseda is, too, but that’s digital-only, for the time being. Previn, spread across two orchestras and labels, has 4/7 of a cycle. Arguably the most significant recordings that never became a cycle are those of (and I don’t say this often) Riccardo Muti’s with the Philadelphia Orchestra. He’s got the best-ever Third to his name, bookended by a superb combo of the stalwarts, One and Five. Shame that didn’t get any further.

What makes a good cycle is going to be different for everyone; it is, as we know, a mix of objective aspects and subjective responses. But there is also some common sense in approaching a set: A first-and-only set to satisfy one’s Prokofiev-itch will have to do a different kind of lifting than a fifth set. And yes, a recommended set should be able to do everything well. Still, realistically, if you are thinking of getting a complete set of these symphonies, it would not be unrealistic to assume that you are a bit of a collector with previous Prokofiev-exposure. And as such, it’s almost certain that you have a (perhaps favorite) recording of No.1 and probably also one of No.5. And even if you do not, those are easy to add to the collection. As such, I happen to think that if a cycle has its weak spots precisely on one or two of those symphonies, that’s not a deal breaker, that’s the most easily excusable place to have one. After all, a Prokofiev symphony cycle set is most probably gotten to fill in the gaps with the lesser recorded works and therefore needs to make strong arguments for those symphonies that need to have the strongest arguments made for them.

A word on the versions: There are two versions of the Fourth Symphony and of the Seventh Symphony, if “version” is the right term in the latter case. The Seventh (despite being written “specifically for children”) originally ended (despite the finale being titled and beginning “vivace”) on a rather desolate note, a skeptical stream of musical consciousness on the bell-theme of the first movement that slowly fades away. Then, shortly before his death, Prokofiev decided to tack on a happy-end to the work. There are competing stories that try to explain the new ending. Was it because of criticism, when the quiet ending was condemned after the symphony’s premiere under Samuil Samosud? Rostropovich and a few others have suggested that the Samosud suggested that Prokofiev end the movement “vivace”, by using the principal theme of the finale as that would probably win him a first rather than a second-class Stalin Prize, which meant an extra 25,000 rubles. (The stories, as told, vary as to what the amount is and which prize the symphony might have otherwise won – but it’s told often enough.) Similarly, it has been suggested that Prokofiev changed his mind and confessed to preferring the original ending.

The difference is actually close to nil; these 25 seconds of “Yay” tacked on – almost like a joke: as if that little disconnected coda could possibly change the mood of the preceding music – make no darn difference. If you like the Seventh (I do), it works just fine either way. It is, in any case, up to the conductor. Many conductors profess to prefer the original ending but most (though usually not the Russians!) offer the alternate ending, playing the bright add-on. Sometimes that is set off by adding a new track for it, so that one could just skip it (relatively) easily. I mark the sets below with a smiley and/or frowny face, to indicate the endings. In essence, if you have the happy end, you also have the frowny end; if I do include the frowny face and a smiley, that means that the ending has a separate track or that the entire finale is recorded twice (Litton, for example). (But once more: It simply does not matter.)

With the Fourth Symphony, the differences between the earlier and later version were significant enough for Prokofiev assign it a new opus number: Opus 47 (1930) thus became Opus 112 (1947). Generally, it is the latter version that is being preferred by conductors but again, some sets (Neeme Järvi, Gaffigan, Gergiev, Kitajenko, Karabits) contain both and a few only the earlier version (Martinon, Rostropovich). Prokofiev added a few instruments (most notably Piano, more colorful percussion, and the harp), added a lot of material to bolster its breadth, width, and length. Ultimately, he set out to give the work more appeal, either with the politicians, the public, or probably both, wanting to “rehabilitate a defective but worthy score by adjusting it to the standards and practices consolidated in the Fifth and Sixth [Symphonies]”. I'll note the opus numbers below, to indicate which version was used. (Prokofiev was also going to revise wholesale his unsuccessful Second Symphony. He had even picked out a new opus number for it, “136”, but then never go around to it. Had he lived, he might have begun to rival Bruckner in causing Edition-confusion.)

General housekeeping: I am sitting on the data for several new discographic entries under work. Ring cycles, Mahler, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven symphony cycles, Mozart Piano Concerto and String Quartet-cycles, Mendelssohn String Quartet cycles, and DSCH-Prelude & Fugue recordings. They take an awful lot of time to research, however, and even more time to put into html-presentable shape. Even then they are rarely complete or mistake-free. Neither will this one be, and every such post is also a plea to generously inclined readers with more information and knowledge of the subject than I have to lend a helping hand correcting my mistakes or filling data-lacunae.

I am explicitly grateful for any such pointers, hinters, and corrections and apologize for any bloomers. (Preferably on Twitter, where I'll read the comment much sooner than here, but either works!) Unlike some of my earliest discographies, this one does intend to be comprehensive. I am therefore especially grateful when I get sets that I have missed (such ones that have only ever appeared on LP, for example) pointed out to me. I have not listened to all the recordings above, but most of them and favorites are indicated with the "ionarts choice" graphic. Ditto recommended cycles by ClassicsToday/David Hurwitz or, if the fancy strikes me so, Gramophone. Links to reputable reviews are included where I thought of it and could find any. With hundreds of links in this document, there are, despite my best efforts, bound to be some that are broken or misplaced; I am glad about every correction that comes my way re. those, too.

Enjoy and leave a comment in some form!


Edits


04.14.2026 Info about the cycle (or rather: not-cycle) of Jurowski's (Pentatone) added. Also: No re-issue/boxing of Karabits cycle planned. 04.06.2026 More context added to the non-complete and ongoing cycles. Previn added. 04.04.2026 This survey is pretty much done; at least as far as the complete cycles are concerned. I will still add incomplete and ongoing cycles below but don't feel like that's urgent enough to keep this survey unpublished for however long it would take me. In any case, these are the non-cycles I am thinking of adding: Ashkenazy I, Jurowski, Petrenko, Inkinen, Sokhiev, Noseda, Previn, Welser-Möst (assuming they are really ongoning cycles and will find some physical manifestation. [I'm looking at you, Noseda!] And I might boycot Welser-Möst for coming in an idiotic shape.


(Survey begins after the break, if you didn't land on this page directly)

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The Last Missing Piece of the Kna’ Grail: Knappertsbusch’s 1955 Parsifal from Bayreuth

Richard Wagner Parsifal, Hans Knappertsbusch Bayreuth Festival, 1955 (Profil Hänssler, 2023) US | UK | DE

Dip Your Ears: No. 284 (Knappertsbusch’s 1955 Bayreuth Parsifal)

Kna’s long-lost Parsifal, the last one to await full issue, is now available. Was it worth the wait?

Parsifal-Aficionados had to wait a long, long time for this: The recording of the 1955 Bayreuth performance under Hans Knappertsbusch. An interpretation of primordial power, forward momentum, dynamism. A recording of vocal superlatives from the 30-year-old Fischer Dieskau as Amfortas; with Ramon Vinay and Martha Mödl at peak voltage. In short: One of Bayreuth’s finest hours. At least such were the rumors.

To make it even more tantalizing: For years, this Parsifal could only be experienced partially and unofficially. Namely only by way off an aircheck of a BBC broadcast of the second act. Adding further to the intrigue: The complete tapes were known to exist in the archives of Bavarian Radio; my colleague Klaus Kalchschmid had seen and heard them.

When said colleague Klaus and I visited the Wagner-discography expert Frank Schöneborn in Aachen, the latter – before putting on this aircheck as the very last snippet of Parsifal to listen to – pronounced: “Kna was at the absolute height of his powers here! And these singers… fantastic. It absolutely blows you away!” And this opinion was based on that old, wildly imperfect recording in, frankly, execrable sound. The musical instruments were hardly recognizable as such. The sound came and went. Everyone and everything howled; it was like listening to an old C-90 cassette that had been left in the glove compartment on a hot summer’s day.

Myth v. Reality

It’s a truism of record collecting, as any ionarts-reader will be aware, that the best recordings are always those that are the most difficult to source. Alas, the grail is ever only the grail in searching, rarely in finding. Now Profil/Hänssler has issued the tapes from the BR archives, at long last, closing the last remaining gap in the Parsifal/Bayreuth discography of Hans Knappertsbusch. Naturally you’ll wonder: Does the reputation survive the availability? Well, this much up front: The modest mono-sound of this release feels like high fidelity, compared to the BBC bits. The voices come out nicely, indeed. As far as the two dimensional orchestra goes, however, these tapes don’t begin to approach the vivid stereo image of the 1962 Philips recording. (But then, neither do any of the other Kna/Parsifal recordings, where every orchestra group – strings, brass, woodwinds – sounds the same.)

The tempos are, by Kna’s standards, on the taut side and similar to ’62; only in 1960 was he a shade less slow. In this, the recording is a nice and welcome contrast to the other (somewhat dreary) Knappertsbuschian Parsifals of the 50s. Amid the so-so-OK sound, you can also hear that, vocally, nothing went particularly wrong. Ludwig Weber’s Gurnemanz sounds a little taxed. Martha Mödl truly is at the height of her goosebumps-inducing powers as Kundry. Neidlinger’s attractively-evil Klingsor almost makes you want to switch sides, and Fischer-Dieskau’s Amfortas is decidedly not mannered, but fresh and surprisingly (given the character’s disposition, not the singer’s age) healthy. Ramón Vinay’s Parsifal, however, barks and lumbers, which is surprising, even if it actually suits the crude Parsifal of Act I rather well. Subsequently, Vinay proves, in lyrically convincing ways, that this was, indeed, a choice on his part. The chorus is more coordinated than in 1951, which, admittedly, is saying little. That ensemble would go on to improve, year over year. The Eduard Steingraeber Parsifal-piano, specifically made for the bells in Parsifal, sounds – how to put this… awful. Brash and not particularly bell-like, either.

This issue is a collector’s dream-come-true – and no self-respecting Parsifal-obsessed Wagnerian will forgo the experience of having and having heard this recording. For everyone else, it’s a case of “be careful what you dream about” – if you are among those, you can stick with your favorite recording of Parsifal, be it with or without Kna’, and know that you are not missing out on anything. (Jed Distler, over on ClassicsToday, likes it a bit better than I do, btw.)

The 1962 Parsifal Redeemed

As far as Kna’ and his Parsifals in general are concerned, that two-day listening session (and subsequent listening) have established quite definiteively to these ears (but also to Schöneborn, that the 1962 Philips recording is the best of all his Bayreuth Parsifals, and by a very wide margin. Not only is the sound in a completely different league from every other recording (which means that you can actually hear the instruments in the orchestra, as opposed to a vague, two-dimensional Wagner-like orchestral mixture), the orchestra and chorus are caught in much better shape than anywhere else, too. Also the interpretation is probably the most statisfying of Knappertsbusch’s, in doing well what he did well and avoiding some of the pitfulls that, on record at least, didn't translate quite so well... The singers are very good to good-enough: Only Irene Dalis will never be to everyone's taste; if one could airlift the 1953 Martha Mödl (Kna') or the 1970 Gwyneth Jones (Boulez) or the young 1985 Waltraud Meier (Levine) into this recording, one might. But Dalis is certainly not ruinous to the efforts and neither is George London, whose magnificent Amfortas adorns seven of Kna’s Parsifals (51 to 53, 57, 61 to 63) might arguably be 'least magnificient' specifically in this outing.

The second-most famous 1951 version, meanwhile, probably suffers probably most from direct comparison (entries are off, imprecise strings), but some of that has to do with the expectations it comes with. The same, ultimately, goes for the 1955, which is not, however, as bad as it might have reasonably feared to be, sound-wise. Something for the Parsifal-curious then – but if you are, you already knew that!

Knappertsbusch varies his tempi quite a bit. Turns out that his quickest, from 1962, is also his best, offering compassion rather than pathos. The ’51 recording sounds awfully grave and a bit uniform, with little energy. Knappertsbusch seems to start and re-start the orchestra over and over. At the dramatic peak, London is left to his own devices and when London passes his duties to Windgassen, the interpretation feels a lot slower than Levine’s, despite lasting just as long. The latter really brings out the augustness of this moment, perfectly timing orchestra and singers. A pity you don’t trust Peter Hofmann that he is quite cut out for the duties ahead. (Frank Schöneborn)

As a bonus: Below will follow a Knappertsbusch-Bayreuth-Parsifal Survey:

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In Memoriam: Listening to Alfred Brendel

Most people listening to classical music today have, to a greater or lesser degree, been musically socialized with the performances of Alfred Brendel. He was a fixed star on the international scene when it came to Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert and a few other of his favorite composers. His dry wit, usually gentle, rarely acerbic, poignancy, his unapologetic classicism made him an unlikely, charming icon. He has passed away on Tuesday, June 17^th, 2025 at his home in London.

I was on the steps outside the Musikverein when I read the news that Alfred Brendel had passed away in London, at the age of 94. This was the place he had given his final recital of his truly final farewell tour and this was the town where he lived when his career got under way in 1950 after first successes in Graz and before he permanently settled in the UK in 1971.

His success was a stellar one; born in the 1930s, Brendel was of a time that came a generation-plus after the keyboard titans à la Arthur Schnabel (1882), Wilhelm Backhaus (1884), Edwin Fischer (1886), Arthur Rubinstein (1887), Wilhelm Kempff (1895), Vladimir Horowitz, Rudolf Serkin and Claudio Arrau (all 1903). He was thus a “modern” artist, to anyone born before 1980, and, crucially, born into the stereo age. This is relevant, because as the exclusive go-to pianist of one of the major labels – Philips (now Decca) – for the heydays of the late analog and digital age, Brendel became a superstar of – and to some extent also because of – the recorded age. In the 100-volume, 200-CD “Great Pianists Of The 20th Century” project of Tom Deacon’s – to which Brendel was an advisor – Brendel is one of only seven pianists (Arrau, Gilels, Horowitz, Kempff, Richter & Rubinstein being the others) with three volumes dedicated to his art. If it had to be the classical repertoire – Mozart, Schubert, Beethoven – Brendel was there for you. Within that realm – and a little beyond – he recorded most of what there was to be recorded and much of that twice, some, like the Beethoven Sonatas, even thrice or more: In the 60s for Vox, in the 70s for Philips, analog, and for Philips again in the 90s, digitally. And of select works Brendel, who exerted quite a bit of control over what would get released and what would not, opted to have live accounts published, which he professedly preferred over his studio accounts. With the different releases of each of these versions (and most of them on Philips or Decca, still), it can get a bit messy trying to figure out which the analog second recording of D.960 or the digital remake of the Moonlight Sonata is or isn't. (But I am here to help.)

Alfred Brendel on Ionarts: In Performance His Soft Touch, Powerfully Moving, 02/09/2006 (jfl) Closing the Lid: Alfred Brendel, 19/03/2008 (Charles) A Conversation with Alfred Brendel, 20/03/2008 (Michael Lodico) Alfred Brendel Speaks, 11/18/2000 (Charles) On Record: Best Recordings of 2004 (#8), 12/16/2004 (jfl) From Goerne to His Distant Beloved, 07/18/2005 (jfl) Brendel and Mozart, 02/06/2006 (Charles) Brendel’s Choice, 02/06/2006 (jfl) Best Recordings of 2009 (#3), 12/14/2009 (jfl)

In Austria, his success shadowed that of fellow pianists Paul Badura-Skoda (1927), who, to some degree, escaped into the historical performance niche, Jörg Demus (1928), who found his main fame in Lied accompaniment, Ingrid Haebler (1929), who recorded much the same repertoire but whose star waned earlier, and Friedrich Gulda (1930), who became the eccentric: Considered by people in the know as a superior pianist but with a far smaller reach, ultimately. Internationally – specifically in America – there were contemporaries Byron Janis (1928), Glenn Gould (1932), Van Cliburn (1934), Leon Fleisher (1928), Richard Goode (1943), most of whom had their careers cut prematurely short; elsewhere, pianists like Ivan Moravec (1930) were stuck behind the iron curtain. As a result, the name “Alfred Brendel” and the maroon bar of the Philips label’s recordings became as indicative of a musically interested household as Wilhelm Kempff on the Yellow Label had been, a few decades earlier. Brendel’s association with the “Complete Mozart Edition” only furthered this omnipresence.

This kind of prominence brought about the invariable backlash in the form of criticism – the thrust of which, generally, was that Brendel was boring. This accusation might have had its understandable roots in Brendel’s style, which relied on subtlety and wit, level-headedness and sincerity, articulation, intelligence, and purpose, but never flash. The grand romantic gesture, even if it had been within his reach, was not temperamentally his. Even Liszt (where he did show the kind of chops that some critics might occasionally have forgotten he had) was not showy with Brendel.

It also showed in the repertoire he chose to play and even more so the repertoire he chose not to play. He left out composers most pianists couldn’t envisage making a career without: Chopin was (largely) missing; hardly, if any, Debussy or Ravel; no Rachmaninoff was ever in his sights, nor Tchaikovsky. Instead, he dropped morsels of

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A Survey of Nielsen Symphony Cycles

► An Index of ionarts Discographies

Continuing my discographies, this is a survey of — hopefully — every extant recorded cycle of the Carl Nielsen symphonies. They are listed in chronological order of completion. This should include all cycles, whether they were issued as such or not, including those where multiple conductors were at work on it. I have heard many of these and possibly at least some symphonies of most of them, but hardly all of them. Comments on what you like or dislike about any given cycle are very much appreciated — be it below (where they might take a while to be noticed) on Twitter, or best: in both places.

On a personal note: It has taken me long – far too long – to really get into Carl Nielsen’s music. Especially his symphonies. I have attributed this to taking the wrong approach, namely to think of Nielsen as a southern cousin of Sibelius (see also: A Survey of Sibelius Symphony Cycles), expecting his symphonies to do some of the same sort of magic, spell a similar, vaguely “nordic” web of enchantment. On this count, Nielsen fails. He is not “Sibelius 2.0”, in fact, he really isn’t anything like Sibelius. No more, anyway, that Richard Strauss is anything like Sibelius, despite also being a sumptuous romantic composer of the 20th century. Tempting so it may be to hope for it, there are no swans in Nielsen, figure-skating across frozen lakes on a winter’s daybreak. The most prosaic picture you’ll be lucky to wrestle from Nielsen might be – and I’m winging it here – a frog hopping away in the woods. Nielsen himself – allegedly – told Sibelius once Sibelius – allegedly – told Nielsen once: “I don’t reach as high as your ankles.” (If you can find a source for that quote, do let me know!)

The composer who paved my way towards greater, more intense Nielsen-appreciation happened to have been Bohuslav Martinů (see also: A Survey of Martinů Symphony Cycles). It turns out that his six symphonies have much more of a kinship with Nielsen’s than do Sibelius’… if for no more profound reason than both of them working off rhythm and propulsion as their main ingredients. Once I came to Nielsen thinking “Martinů”, not “Sibelius”, I found them far more intriguing and the listening-experience was no longer tainted by disappointment but by a newfound state of wonder at the many things Nielsen does offer. It speaks to the enduring qualities of the composer that he is so well served on record – quantitatively, at least. This survey currently lists 28 symphony cycles by the most liberal count and still 17 if you are stingy (counting only single conductor/composer cycles that are available boxed). Compare that to just seven for Martinů, 14 for Vaughan Willians (see also: “A Survey of Vaughan-William Symphony Cycles”), or 20 for Dvořák (see also: A Survey of Dvořák Symphony Cycles), even it can’t compare to the 50+ that Sibelius has to his name).

Qualitatively is another matter; Nielsen is hard to pull off, even to those ears that take more readily to him than mine did. For his symphonies to really grab you by the lapel and draw you in, a lot of ingredients need to be right. It’s hard to draw general conclusions about what works and what doesn’t, but I think it is fair to say that finesse and delicacy are not two ingredients on which the success of good Nielsen depends. Better a bit more brash than reticent in this music, bold rather than refined. As such, I like the gruff Ole Schmidt, the vividly-vital Bryden Thomson, the sumptuously grand Alan Gilbert, and the carefree abandon of Adrian Leaper. As you might imagine, Leonard Bernstein has a lot to bring to Nielsen – and indeed his Fifth (especially) is one of the great Nielsen-recordings there is. With the same sweeping gesture, I condemn high-profile cycles to the dustbin of civilized boredom. Among them Blomstedt (at least the EMI recordings), Davis, Saraste, Schønwandt (the cycle I started out with – and I might be wrong about it; others love it), and even Vänskä. [Actually, not so fast: Vänskä proved to have distinct merits, on third hearing.] If you are already into Nielsen, I am sure you have your favorites and “Mehs” already, yourself. Curiously, it seems like it is always the same labels that tend towards Nielsen: Chandos, BIS, and (understandably) the Danish Dacapo-label each have three cycles on offer and Chandos already has a fourth (Gardner) in the making. (The fact that DG now has two cycles is probably owed more to the Luisi-cycle having been offered for free to them, than DG having had any designs on adding to Paavo Järvi's cycle from the early 90s.)

I am sitting on the data for several new discographic entries under work. Ring cycles, Mahler, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven symphony cycles, Mozart Piano Concerto and String Quartet-cycles, among others. They take an awful lot of time to research, however, and even more time to put into html-presentable shape. And even then they are rarely complete or mistake-free. Neither will this one be, and every such post is also a plea to generously inclined readers with more information and knowledge of the subject than I have to lend a helping hand correcting my mistakes or filling data-lacunae.

I am explicitly grateful for any such pointers, hinters, and corrections and apologize for any bloomers. (Preferably on Twitter, where I'll read the comment much sooner than here, but either works!) Unlike some earlier discographies, this one does intend to be comprehensive. So I am especially grateful when I have sets that I have missed (such that only ever appeared on LP, for example) pointed out to me. I have not listened to them all, but favorites are indicated with the "ionarts choice" graphic. Ditto recommended cycles by ClassicsToday/David Hurwitz. Links to reputable reviews are included where I thought of it and could find any. With hundreds of links in this document, there are, despite my best efforts, bound to be some that are broken or misplaced; I am glad about every correction that comes my way re. those, too.

Enjoy and leave a comment in some form!


(Survey begins after the break, if you didn't land on this page directly)

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A Survey of Enescu Symphony Cycles

► An Index of ionarts Discographies

Continuing my discographies, while in the middle of a massive update of the Bach Organ Cycle Survey, I thought I'd squeeze in one with the symphonies of George Enescu, not the least because on the outset it appeared to be a bit of a quicky, with seemingly just five (?) sets out there. Even cursory research revealed this to be an illusion. There are, from what I’ve found out so far, eight cycles, and who knows what might yet turn up, with the help of the readers.

It is prompted, quite obviously, by the appearance of the most recent set, which Cristian Măcelaru managed to have appear on DG. (Quite neat, how DG likes to add nifty off-the-beaten-path cycles to their catalogue, like Franz Schmidt with Paavo Järvi or Carl Nielsen with Fabio Luisi, so long as they don't have to pay for it.)

As always, every such discographic post, even one of such limited scope as this one, is also a plea to generously inclined readers with more information and knowledge of the subject than I have to lend a helping hand correcting my mistakes or filling data-lacunae. I am explicitly grateful for any such pointers, hinters, and corrections and apologize for any bloomers. (Preferably on Twitter, where I'll read the comment much sooner than here, but either works!) Where good reviews have appeared by serious reviewers, links are included.

Now what’s in a symphony cycle? That’s often a question, when it comes to these recorded surveys, be it in Schubert (1-7, 9 or more?), Bruckner (1-9 or all 11?), Mahler (Lied von der Erde or not? Blumine?). In Enescu, too, it’s far less straightforward than the obvious answer – Symphonies One through Three – might seem. There are, after all, two more symphonies that Enescu never finished but which have since been presented in performing versions by composer and musicologist Pascal Bentoiu. To convolute things further, there are four “Study Symphonies”, a Symphonia concertante (for Cello and Orchestra), a Symphonic Suite for Orchestra (the Poème Roumain), and the great symphonic poem Vox maris for tenor, three-part choir and orchestra.

Among other orchestral works that are popularly (if that’s the right word) coupled with the symphonies, are his other orchestral works. They include primarily the two Romanian Rhapsodies, of which the first might be his most popular works, three Orchestral Suites, the Overture on Popular Romanian Themes, two Intermezzi for strings, “Three Overtures for orchestra”, the Tragic Overture, the Triumphal Overture, a Sonata for Orchestra, the Andantino from an orchestral suite, “Four Divertissements for orchestra”, a Pastorale-Fantaisie for orchestra, the symphonic poem Isis (also completed by Pascal Bentoiu), and the Suite chatelaine for orchestra (completed by Remus Georgescu).

The three numbered, completed works appear to be just scratching the surface of the deep Enescu-waters. For the purposes of this survey, however, Nos. 1 to 3 is what counts and will be considered complete. Boni and links to other works are, however, included at the end of it.

The fact that much of Enescu’s music can appear as episodic is, in part, probably as possibly an outcome of our own lack of familiarity with these works and Enescu’s idiom, as of the performances themselves. Enescu needs attention, more often than he demands it. As such, the listening experience either requires more concentration and commitment from the listener than listening to yet another performance of La Mer, or greater exposure. But like other Surprised-by-Beauty composers (Martinů comes to mind), Enescu pays back that investment – and more consistently than some. Dip your ears – maybe start with the Third Symphony or Vox maris, among the orchestral works; the First Rhapsody is almost too easy to like, do that a few times, and see where it takes you if you haven’t arrived yet.

Orchestra names: Usually, I use standardized English names for orchestras, but sometiemes I like the original, because it is pithier. Or I use both, to confuse people. In any case, the George Enescu State Philhamonic Bucharest Filarmonica George Enescu (GESP) is the Filarmonica George Enescu in Romanian. The Orchestra Națională Radio used to be Orchestra of The Romanian Radio and Television and, in English, is now the Romanian Radio National Orchestra (or National Radio Orchestra of Romania, RRNO). For the Iași “Moldova” Philharmonic Orchestra (also: Moldova Philharmonic or Philharmonia Moldova) I used its Romanian name: Filarmonica Moldova Iași, which strikes me as less clunky. Ditto the Timisoara Banatul Philharmonic Orchestra, which is either refered to here as the Filarmonica Banatul (din Timișoara) or more simply as the Bantul PO.
Enjoy and leave a comment in some form!


Edits Date: TBA



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Remembering John Browning: A Short Portrait

S.Barber, Piano Concerto, Sy.1 J.Browning, L.Slatkin, St. Louis SO RCA

S.Prokofiev, Piano Concertos J.Browning, E.Leinsdorf, Boston SO RCA

S.Barber, Complete Songs C.Studer, T.Hampson, Emerson SQ4t, J.Browning DG

The Complete RCA Album Collection, John Browning Sony/RCA

Born on this day, May 23rd, in 1933, in Denver, pianist John Browning was a student of the famed Rosina Lhévinne, who taught the cream of the pianistic crop at the Institute of Musical Art (the Juilliard School) in New York. He was a direct contemporary of a North American group of pianists that might be dubbed the ‘Tragic Five’, namely Julius Katchen (1926), Byron Janis, Leon Fleisher, and Gary Graffman (all 1928), and his classmate Van Cliburn (1934). These pianists all started with the very highest hopes and for one reason or other had their careers prematurely ended, curtailed, or fizzle. John Browning's career, too, took a dip – caused by the strain of too many concerts and a subsequent decline in pianistic standards – when it should have been at its peak, but perhaps not sufficiently to make it a ‘Tragic Six’. By the time he played his last recital, at the National Gallery of Arts in 2002, which included a memorable Sonata in E-flat Minor by Samuel Barber, I attended ignorant of who he really was. Those in the know valued him for his “unremitting application and vast reserve of talent… [and] invariable dignity, without recourse to ballyhoo and banality.” (LA Times)

John Browning’s career was jumpstarted when he won the Steinway Centennial Award in 1954 and the Leventritt Competition the next year, then taking the second prize behind Vladimir Ashkenazy at the Queen Elisabeth Competition in 1956, the prize won by fellow Americans Leon Fleisher before him and Malcolm Frager after him. That same year he made his debut with the New York Philharmonic under Dimitri Mitropoulos, which is where Samuel Barber heard him play and was much impressed with his great technique. So impressed, indeed, that Barber wrote difficulties into his piano concerto, with Browning in mind, that were beyond what was humanly possible to play. Browning, in an interview with NPR, recalled Barber taking him to Vladimir Horowitz, to have a look at the score. Horowitz browsed through it and said: “The young man iz right, this iz impossible to play”—whereupon Barber toned the demands down a little.

John Browning’s recitals notably included much Bach and Scarlatti, composers that were not then considered repertoire staples and probably still weren't, even after the landmark recordings of Gould’s Goldberg Variations (1955) and Horowitz’s Scarlatti (1964). But he will be foremost remembered as a champion of Barber. Browning premiered Barber’s piano concerto under Erich Leinsdorf in 1962, and for his second recording of the Piano Concerto, with Leonard Slatkin, he won his first Grammy. Recording the complete solo works of Barber garnered him his second Grammy. In his surprisingly small discography, much of which is hiding on minor labels, his Prokofiev Concertos with Erich Leinsdorf on RCA also stand out. John Browning died on January 26th, 2003, of heart failure.

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Maurizio Pollini, an Appreciation

Maurizio Pollini was perhaps the most important figure in my musical upbringing that I never knew.

Twenty years ago, on October 27th, 2004, I walked down the aisle of the Kennedy Center’s Orchestra Hall with two* (!) press tickets in my hand, headed towards perfect seats for a Maurizio Pollini recital that Eileen Andrews, then with the Washington Performing Arts Society, had unconscionably handed to this upstart crow. Row 18 (T/1&3?) or something, piano left – the first time I had requested review tickets for a “proper” concert where the tickets cost money – an unaffordable sum at a time when a sandwich was a luxury. And I remember keenly thinking to myself: “I will never stop pretending to be a critic!”

Lv.Beethoven, The Late Piano Sonatas Maurizio Pollini DG (1975/77)

Lv.Beethoven, Late Piano Sonatas 101 & 106 Maurizio Pollini DG (2021/22)

Lv.Beethoven, The Piano Concertos Maurizio Pollini, Berlin Phil, C.Abbado DG

L.v.Beethoven, Complete Piano Sonatas Maurizio Pollini DG

W.A.Mozart, Piano Concertos K.453 & 467 Maurizio Pollini, WPh DG

W.A.Mozart, Piano Concertos K.414 & 491 Maurizio Pollini, WPh DG

Stravinsky, Prokofiev et al., Petrouchka, Sonata No.7...) Maurizio Pollini DG

F.Chopin, Etudes opp.10 & 25 Maurizio Pollini DG

F.Schubert, The 3 late Piano Sonatas & 3 Pieces. Maurizio Pollini DG

I had picked Maurizio Pollini for this attempt at getting review tickets, not only because I wanted to see if that racket might work – but because Maurizio Pollini had long been in my personal Hall of Fame (where Eileen joined him that day). It was his disc of the late Beethoven Sonatas (subject of one of the earliest Dip Your Ears reviews) that hooked me. I innocently picked it up in a Best Buy in Fargo, ND, and brought it back to my college room. Even played on my rickety boom box, it was an overwhelming experience. The granitic perfection opened my ears not only to Beethoven sonatas, but, to an extent, to late Beethoven and the fascination of piano sonatas itself. I imprinted so hard on these performances that it’s sometimes been difficult to properly appreciate anyone else’s opp. 106 or 111.

Later came his Beethoven Piano Concertos, the second recording with Abbado, now with the Berlin Philharmonic, which fascinated me equally, if, alas, less momentously. Years went by until – it would have been in 2004 – I ‘discovered’ his Chopin Études at Tower Records, took them home, and marveled at the sound that came forth. Opus 10/1: Like marbles rushing down a marble staircase. So clean, so precise and pristine, you could hear every note and there wasn’t an ounce of fat or sentimentality anywhere in sight. I was bowled over once more.

These recordings – and the one of the Stravinsky Petrouchka movements – contributed as much to the reputation of Pollini as an ingenious perfectionist of unparalleled technical standards as they did to the stereotype that he was necessarily a cool, unemotional pianist. True, his clear-as-a-brook, granitic playing cleansed the treacle from many romantic piece and offered stunning x-ray views into contemporary works. But this did not always bear out in concert or on record, where he was well capable of considerable warmth. Case in point his (relatively) late live Mozart from Vienna, which is “understated, sunny, and genial… sophisticated in its simplicity…, [even reminiscent] of Keith Jarrett’s Mozart playing, but with ‘warmer’ results…” (MusicWeb review) The days of being a left-wing political firebrand (“Champagne Socialist” was a less kind, if certaily apt, moniker) had by then long been over, but the passion for the music burned unabated.

The recordings also set an almost impossible standard for live performances – those of others but also his own. In the recital in 2004, he still held up to that standard. Two years later, at a recital at Strathmore, he didn’t quite, but still moved and impressed:

Still, even at the least involving, the marvelous soft notes – never shy-sounding – demanded respect… The Ballade No. 1 in G Minor had been bumped up from encore status, last year, to the main program – and it suits Pollini’s rigor, his iron-frame rubato much better. Those who like his style in Chopin (it’s not the leaves that shake on the tree, the whole trunk is slowly moving), are invariably fascinated by his approach.

More recently, I wrote for Forbes.com and LISTEN Magazine about his Beethoven Piano Sonata Cycle, a project that he took 39 years to complete:

Beethoven Sonata cycles used to be monuments. Milestones. For a pianist today, a Beethoven Sonata cycle has become more of an ultimate business card, which is why we see so many of them. But one cycle issued last year is still a monument amid business cards: Maurizio Pollini’s. After four decades in the making, it has every bit the feel of a classic, like Kempff, Arrau, Backhaus, or Brendel. That's partly because Pollini is one of the last active titans of the ivories, and partly because the set is anchored around his towering, legendary 1975/77 recording of the last sonatas. His Hammerklavier is a pianistic Matterhorn, imposing and awesome. Thomas Mann spent a whole chapter in Dr. Faustus on op.111. Listening to Pollini, you wonder why not an entire book.

Somewhere in between, I actually did meet the man for a brief second, crossing the floor of an empty Philharmonic Hall in Munich, during or before or after rehearsals. Overcoming the (appropriate!) reticence, I approached my idol, pitched some awkward idea and made an even equally lame compliment, which was met with courteous disinterest. On greeting or parting I shook his hand, quite seemingly against his will, but he was too polite to not go through the motions and put his hand in mine, where it briefly lied, like an anesthetized squid. In my defense: I felt an acute and lasting sense of shame and remorse and I did not squeeze too hard.

I last saw Maurizio Pollini at his final penultimate recital in Vienna (review Wiener Zeitung), in the summer of 2021, at the Musikverein, within weeks of hearing Daniel Barenboim play the same hall. This battle of the dinosaurs, not that it was billed as such, made for instructive listening. That the latter performed Beethoven-as-Bruckner was one thing. One can like it or not. Mistakes in the heat of the passion are also one thing; only curmudgeons begrudge ’em. But the visibly – or seemingly – unmotivated, lazy sloppiness was hard to forgive. Even when you almost knew that you could expect as little. Barenboim made every indication of not giving a damn, played through his recital, and collected the rapturous applause he knew he was going to get, no matter what he did.

Further reading: Andrew Ford, "The clarity of Maurizio Pollini" (Inside Story, 2017).

Quite different Maurizio Pollini, born in Milan, on January 5th, 1942, and just ten months older than Barenboim. When he had given his first recital at the Musikverein, 60 years prior, my mom was still in high school. Now – in '21 – he still attacked every note with the same intensity and expectation of perfection as he had so long been able to do, unwilling to make any concessions. But in several places, like Schumann’s op.18 Fantasie or Chopin’s B minor Sonata, the hands no longer did his bidding in the way he wanted and he grumbled along, and every slip seemed to upset him. The tender moments were breath-taking, still, even if not everything was, strictly speaking, at the highest pianistic level anymore. And then for the Berceuse op.57 and the Polonaise Héroïque, it was back: That absolutely even touch, where every note, no matter which finger takes it, is perfectly even.

The ovations were the ovations not just for that night, but a veritable lifetime achievement award. The audience, myself appreciatingly among them, well knew that this might have been the last time they heard a legend live – and it was. He may have heard his last applause, but Maurizio will live on in the gratitude of music-lovers for a long, long time. Mille grazie per tutto, Maestro.

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P.S. If you want to hear Pollini perform Stockhausen's Klavierstück X, you can/should do so here. No matter how you feel about the music or Stockhausen in general, it is an amazing feat and something to behold.

* With me was ionarts' Charles Downey, who thus celebrated the birth of his first kid, earlier in the day.

A Survey of Tchaikovsky Symphony Cycles

► An Index of ionarts Discographies

Continuing my discographies, this is a survey of - hopefully - every extant recorded cycle of the Tchaikovsky Symphonies. For now, I have listed them alphabetically by conductor. This is not as interesting as listing them chronologically, but it gives a quicker overview of conductors having done multiple cycles. (If anyone knows how to construct a working html/css table that I can sort by either year or name, do let me know! I'm still failing with that for my LvB Symphony Survey.) I do not, by and large, include incomplete cycles (which is to say, not all Symphonies 1-6)... but then I make a lot of exceptions, anyway. "+M" indicates the presence of the Manfred Symphony.

I'll happily grant that Tchaikovsky is not my favorite composer and that I never went through a near-obsessive phase with his symphonies as I did with Mahler, Bruckner, DSCH, Sibelius, or even Martinů. But it's still great music and I do find myself viscerally reacting to performances. It's just that I then either find them great (rarely) or outrigh boring.

I am sitting on the data for several new discographic entries under work. Ring cycles, Mahler, Nielsen, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven symphony cycles, Mozart Piano Concerto and String Quartet-cycles, among others. They take an awful lot of time to research, however, and even more time to put into html-presentable shape. And even then they are rarely complete or mistake-free. Neither will this one be, and every such post is also a plea to generously inclined readers with more information and knowledge of the subject than I have to lend a helping hand correcting my mistakes or filling data-lacunae.

I am explicitly grateful for any such pointers, hinters, and corrections and apologize for any bloomers. (Preferably on Twitter, where I'll read the comment much sooner than here, but either works!) Unlike some earlier discographies, this one does intend to be comprehensive. So I am especially grateful when I have sets that I have missed (such that only ever appeared on LP, for example) pointed out to me. I have not listened to them all, but favorites are indicated with the "ionarts choice" graphic. Ditto recommended cycles by ClassicsToday/David Hurwitz. Links to reputable reviews are included where I thought of it and could find any. With hundreds of links in this document, there are, despite my best efforts, bound to be some that are broken or misplaced; I am glad about every correction that comes my way re. those, too.

Enjoy and leave a comment in some form!


Edits Nov.6.2023: The Survey wasn't five hours hold that I had already been kindly reminded of two oversights (thanks, Decca & Danny!) Zdeněk Mácal's cycle on EXTON with the Czech Phil vand Alexander Sladkovsky's 2019 cycle w/the Tartastan NSO have been added.



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Leonard Bernstein’s Mythical Recording of the Donizetti Requiem

Gaetano Donizetti Messa da requiem Leonard Bernstein P.Domingo, K.Ricciarelli, A.Baltsa, S.Ramey, R.Lloyd LA Phil, LA Master Chorale DG 420 574-2

The Record that Wasn't

If you have ever done a reasonably thorough search for various recordings of the gorgeous but somewhat neglected Requiem Mass of Gaetano Donizetti’s, you might have come across a reference to a recording made in 1982, conducted by Leonard Bernstein, with a superlative cast of singers (Plácido Domingo, Katia Ricciarelli, Agnes Baltsa, Samuel Ramey and Robert Lloyd) with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the Los Angeles Master Chorale. To have appeared on Deutsche Grammophon. It is even assigned a catalog number: “420 574-2”.

This all looks fairly plausible. Domingo has either recorded with these artists (Domingo, Baltsa, Ramey, Lloyd) or could have. The catalog number looks legit enough for the early 80s. But why is there no reference to be found to this album outside of Wikipedia, where it was listed among the available recordings for the Donizetti Requiem (since removed) and among the discographies of some of the alleged participants? And why isn’t there a cover of such a recording to be found in the vast vestiges of the internets?

The answer is simple enough: There never was such a recording. Nor is it an innocent switcharoo, perhaps mistaking Donizetti’s Requiem with an extant Bernstein recording Verdi’s. It’s a deliberate, clever, and reasonbably carefully constructed little joke that someone snuck in, almost an “Otto Jägermeier” of Wikipedia. One the one hand, it cost me a few hours of research. On the other, I don’t want to be a complete spoilsport, so I thought I’d add the graphic element—the cover—to complete the illusion. So here it is. Enjoy the mischief.




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Karajan's Brahms. A Discographic Clarification (#HvK115)

► An Index of ionarts Discographies

Herbert von Karajan conducted - and recorded - Brahms a lot! And, by and large, always well. So it is only reasonable that newcomers would still wish to explore it. But which of his recordings? The 60s cycle? Or the one from the 70s, after all? Or even the one from the 80s? How many recordings did he make? And which ones are hiding behind which labels? This post, an addendum to my series of discographies, was inspired by the #HvK115 Project on Twitter, where TheSymphonist and I challenged ourselves to come up with 115* great Karajan recordings on the occasion of his 115th birthday, seeing that HvK is still often snubbed by the self-proclaimed cognoscenti. Turns out, the challenge was to keep it down to 115! Anyway, with regards to the Brahms (the 60s DG recordings were included in the #HvK115 list, although many others could have rightly been, too), this little post is meant to help you identify which release contains which cycle (or parts thereof). The performances, to the excent they can be sensibly lumped together, are listed in chronological order. Individual releases from the various cycles are included, too, so you know which ones you might already have and which performances are hiding behind which cover, if you're in the market for some Karajan-Brahms.

For orientation: Karajan has recorded the Brahms Symphonies as a cycle four times, all with the Berlin Philharmonic and for DG (or the DG-affiliated Unitel). Once in 1963/64, in the Jesus Christus Kirche, then live on video in 1973, in new recordings from the Philharmonie in 1978, and finally in digital recordings from the Philharmonie between 1986 and 88 (which is more or less identical with the Sony/Telemondia visual releases). Additionally, he recorded Brahms in the studio in London (Kingsway Hall) for EMI with the Philharmonia Orchestra (Sys. 1, 2 & 4) and in Vienna: A one-off from the Musikverein with Brahms' 2nd from 1949 and then two fabled recordings - Symphonies 1 and 3 - with Culshaw for Decca from the Sophiensaal. The rest consists of radio broadcasts throughout the years, most notoriously perhaps the 1943 (!) Brahms 1st with the Concertgebouw, which must have just loved to play under Karajan.

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A Survey of Bartók String Quartet Cycles

► An Index of ionarts Discographies

Continuing my discographies, this is a survey of - hopefully - every extant recorded cycle of Béla Bartók's String Quartets. Because finding the recording dates for all of these cycles had been/remains tricky, I have listed them alphabetically by performer. I do not, by and large, include incomplete cycles. I did, however, include cycles that are not complete on CD, which includes, for example (strangely), the Talich Quartet's Supraphon cycle from 1981/82, but not their incomplete London cycle (Nos 3 & 4 missing) on Collins from 1990/91.

I am sitting on the data for several new discographic entries under work. Ring cycles, Mahler, Nielsen, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven symphony cycles, Mozart Piano Concerto and String Quartet-cycles, among others. They take an awful lot of time to research, however, and even more time to put into html-presentable shape. And even then they are rarely complete or mistake-free. Neither will this one be, and every such post is also a plea to generously inclined readers with more information and knowledge of the subject than I have to lend a helping hand correcting my mistakes or filling data-lacunae. I am explicitly grateful for any such pointers, hinters, and corrections and apologize for any bloomers. Unlike some earlier discographies, this one does intend to be comprehensive. So I am especially grateful if I have sets that I have missed are pointed out to me. I have not listened to them all, but favorites are indicated with the "ionarts choice" graphic. Links to reputable reviews are included where I thought of it and could find any. With hundreds of links in this document, there are, despite my best efforts, bound to be some that are broken or misplaced; I am glad about every correction that comes my way. Enjoy!

Edits


06.10.2025 Hard to believe - but apparently no new recordings have been made of the six Bartók Quartets in a while. So I fixed a few broken links and gave the Diotima's cycle the right recording dates and added some flavour text to the ABQ's recording.

01.20.2023 Thanks to the DSCH-SQ4t-Cycle-Survey, I remembered about the Quartetto Classico - and I've added it below.

01.16.2023 I'm about to put this puppy online but have just discovered the first cycle I had hitherto overlooked: The Auryn Quartett's. But now we should be ready.

There is also information floating about the net regarding a "Rudi Mahall Quartett" cycle. I find only Nos. 1, 2, 5, 6 listed under their name and the online recordings seem all to stem from one source. I have my doubts as to whether there really ever was such a quartet/recording or whether it's not some meta-data funk-up. Clarification appreciated..

05.26.2021: I have heard there is a cycle by a "Quartetto Classico" ["Cuarteto Classico"?] but cannot find a trace of it. Anyone know?

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