Briefly Noted: Lise Davidsen and Leif Ove Andsnes

E. Grieg, Haugtussa / Songs, L. Davidsen, L. O. Andsnes (released on January 7, 2022) Decca 00028948526543 | 75'32"

Soprano Lise Davidsen lifted my spirits during the pandemic, with an extraordinary recital for Vocal Arts DC that, even though it was virtual, was one of my favorite performances of 2021. That program included a wonderful rendition of Edvard Grieg's Sechs Lieder, op. 48, on German poetry and in a German romantic vein. As it turned out, it was also a tease for her new release, a beguiling recital of songs by Norway's most beloved composer. To seal the deal, the Norwegian soprano partnered with Norwegian pianist Leif Ove Andsnes. The two musicians, working together for the first time, recorded the album last September in the town of Bodø in the Arctic Circle, where a new cultural center, the Stormen Konserthus, opened in 2014.

This collection supplants what was up to this point my reference recording for the Grieg songs, by Anne Sofie von Otter and Bengt Forsberg from the 1990s. This disc, like that one, is anchored on Grieg's only song cycle, the mysterious Haugtussa (The Fairy Maid), with poetry by Arne Garborg in Nynorsk, the New Norwegian that had been reinstated after Norway had finally regained its independence from Denmark. Davidsen sings with both shimmering transparency and, where needed, overwhelming power, incarnating the voice of Veslemøy, the young Norwegian girl with psychic powers. Andsnes accompanies with sensitivity and variety of tone, including magical flourishes upward in "Det syng," impetuous shifts of mood in "Blåbær-Li" and "Killingdans," and tender longing in "Møte." The lover's betrayal of the girl and her suicide in the brook in the final two songs are heart-breaking.

Grieg's nationalist reputation lies in his interest in Norwegian folk music, but living as he was in the period just after Norway's independence, this song cycle and other songs in Nynorsk are just as important. The other songs on this disc range widely in style, from the forlorn "En Svane" to the rousing "Og jeg vil ha mig en Hjertenskjær," where both Davidsen and Andsnes test the forceful dynamic power of their respective instruments to thrilling effect. In addition to gorgeous excerpts from various collections, the album comprises complete performances of the folk music-inspired Five Songs, op. 69, including the very moving poem and music for "Ved Moders Grav" (At Mother's Grave) and the playful "Snegl, Snegl!" (Snail, Snail!). The aforementioned six German songs, op. 48, are just as poignant as remembered from Davidsen's virtual recital, but with more powerful contributions from Andsnes at the keyboard.

Ionarts-at-Large: The 2018 Pärnu Music Festival

Pärnu Music Festival

Paavo Järvi & EFO At Pärnu Music Festival 2018 – © IMZ Media

In sunny-summery Pärnu, on Estonia’s south western coast, it is possible to wade through the Baltic Sea one moment, and thirty minutes later sit in the concert hall with sand still between your toes, and enough time left to crane your neck to get a better look at Estonia’s Who’s-Who, all present among the audience assuming they aren’t conducting the concert in question. In this case, on August 8^th, at the Estonian Festival Orchestra’s concert under Paavo Järvi, those included Neeme Järvi, paterfamilias of the conducting clan, Arvo Pärt (at a sprightly 82 years still hopping – well, clambering – up the stage after his Third Symphony), and the splendid Erkki-Sven Tüür.[1] Also present: the slightly less well known Jüri Reinvere, whose And tired from Happiness… (“Und müde vom Glück”) received its premiere, and Tõnu Kõrvits, who was handed the Lepo Sumera Award for Composition before Järvi gave that night’s first upbeat at Pärnu Concert Hall.

Said hall has a pill-shaped layout, slightly raked orchestra seating and a balcony that goes 370° round all the way – except for a spot stage-right, where two immense 20-foot doors loom over the orchestra. Judging from a third back among the orchestra seats, it has a fine, accurate acoustic, not conducive to loud volumes and a little on the dry side. That proved a good environment to hear finely articulated strings and the clear woodwinds in Arvo Pärt’s Third Symphony, “his most popular to date, [which] makes a charismatic point of [the composer’s] then-newly won melodiously religious sentiment by quoting Gregorian chant amid all the other well-known Pärt contraptions”[2]. It also made the music appear as blocks of music (somewhere between Gabrieli and Bruckner), only reasonably seamlessly fused to form a gratifying whole. Strangely dampened, the Symphony ended up very much a low-octane affair for a concert opener.

The contrast was made more overt by Jüri Reinvere’s wham-bam And tired from Happiness… that opened the second half. The stage filled up to the brim with musicians, instigating the immediate thought: ‘Good luck getting that performed again!’ Then again, he may be onto something: Subsidized orchestra-musicians all over Europe need to work to satisfy the politicians that judge an orchestra’s success by how efficiently the total amount of players were used throughout the year. Never mind that this amounts to a penalty on performing Haydn and Mozart or anything else benefiting from a smaller ensemble – and skews the game in favor of the big romantics and beyond. If you have a harp and tuba and contra-bassoonist on your payroll, you have better use ‘em! Well, Jüri Reinvere does.

Pretty neatly, too: The faintly Wagner-ish “Schatten im Spiegel” movement glides and swells along pleasantly, fully harmonic (you’d scarcely expect anything else from an Estonian composer these days), with transitions that veered between Brucknerian and awkward. The long rising accumulative energy generated the thrill that the Pärt had denied. The mildly pretentious German movement titles can’t distract from that. The clusters are harmless. The string pizzicatos, accentuated by the [continue reading]

Read more »

Dip Your Ears, No. 212 (Alice Sara in Wonderland)

#morninglistening to #Grieg w/@BRSO, @esapekkasalonen, @alicesaraott on @dgclassics, title… https://t.co/KqyF65in44 pic.twitter.com/8q7TvPuhmQ

— Jens F. Laurson (@ClassicalCritic) August 25, 2016

Alice Sara Ott’s latest release is titled “Wonderland”, because, well “Alice”, you know, finds herself enchanted in Grieg’s Lyric Pieces. It makes for a catchy play on words and suggests a concept album. Not surprising, because these days, every release from Deutsche Grammophon seems to be a little bit of a cross-over release; chasing the Zeitgeist, but with shoelaces tied together. It fits that Alice Sara Ott writes in the generally lucid liner notes how these Lyric Pieces (what with trolls and elves and speluncean royalty and lepidoptera being depicted) are a ‘Wonderland’ to her.

On the cover she’s is surrounded by what are – I think – paper origami butterflies, a reasonably subtle hint at Grieg’s Sommerfugl (op.43/1) and perhaps Alice Sara Ott’s half-Japanese background. In a PR department’s mind she is probably considered the ‘classical’ answer to her ‘romantic’ contemporary pianist colleague Yuja Wang (born in 1988 & 1987 respectively); sharing an instrument, the technical skill (Ott’s perhaps not quite as furiously prodigious), and beauty – where Ott scores high(er) on classical beauty and dress – even with the occasional skin-tight

Read more »

Latest on Forbes: NSO, Eschenbach & Lang Lang hit Vienna

Backstage w/@NSOtweets in Vienna. Trunk for music if royalty or octogenarians come?#over… https://t.co/vphYO3EqVM pic.twitter.com/aX0JNDALWR

— Jens F. Laurson (@ClassicalCritic) February 10, 2016

Washington's National Symphony And Lang Lang In Vienna

...BA-Dam!! Christopher Rouse rips the score of his 1986 8- or 9-minute symphonic overture open with a loud, butts-from-seats-jolting chord before plinking and plonging away, harp-supported, and moving on with great gaiety in the woodwind section. The tuba engages in sounds that would make juveniles giggle; the neglected strings are allowed a word in, edgewise, here and there. Eventually the music works up an appetite and goes through more notes than the Cookie Monster through Oreos. Me want demisemiquaver!...

The full article on Forbes.com.

#morninglistening: Grieg 'n' Grainger, Works for Cello & Piano

#morninglistening to #Grieg et al. with Christian Ihle Hadland and Andreas Brantelid. #cla… http://t.co/0pIXjh3zbQ pic.twitter.com/BRG5YhT7vI

— Jens F. Laurson (@ClassicalCritic) September 20, 2015

Read more »

Pop Star Pianist: Lang Lang with the NSO

Chopin, Scherzos / Tchaikovsky, The Seasons, Lang Lang (Sony, 2015)

The excitement was palpable at the Kennedy Center Concert Hall Thursday, with throngs of concertgoers crowding the stairs and lobbies leading to the Concert Hall. This sort of pre-concert commotion is an unusual occurrence for a National Symphony Orchestra subscription concert on a weeknight. Yet pianist Lang Lang, the evening’s featured guest, is not your usual piano soloist. Perhaps the closest thing classical music has to a pop star, the Chinese pianist has a loyal following, a social media presence, and all the trappings associated with stardom. In Edvard Grieg's Piano Concerto in A minor, op. 16, he delivered a muscular performance filled with moments of incredible speed, technique, and more than a bit of musical style.

It was fortunate that Lang Lang had Christoph Eschenbach on the podium. Eschenbach's sensitive accompaniment seemed to owe something to his experience as a keyboard soloist. The NSO was a willing partner for most of the concerto, allowing Lang Lang to plumb the piano's dynamic range, from a barely perceptible pianissimo in the third movement to a thunderous fortissimo that ended the concerto. The NSO and Eschenbach get credit also for carefully following Lang Lang during his frequent rubatos, which allowed the pianist to let loose his dazzling technique, particularly in the first movement's cadenza and later in a short cadenza in the finale, where Lang Lang's lightning-fast cross-hand work elicited gasps from the audience. It was in the first cadenza, though, that Lang Lang demonstrated that he can use his prodigious technique to create stylish interpretations. His coloring and voicing in the cadenza, allowing him to imitate the sound of a harp at times, displayed a depth of interpretation heard far less during earlier appearances in Washington.

As expected, the finale featured Lang Lang pushing the speed limit, displaying energy and feats of extreme pianism, culminating in a raucous ovation, which was rewarded with a memorable encore. Without having to concern himself with an orchestra, Lang Lang raced through Ernesto Lecuona’s Cuban Dance. That he played it faster than any dancer could manage to move mattered little. His hands seemed to go three times as quickly as they did in the Grieg.

Other Reviews: Anne Midgette, NSO offers chestnuts, and Lang Lang, in enjoyable evening (Washington Post, October 30)

With its copious exposed solo parts the Grieg highlighted the state of the NSO. In the second movement, for example, newly appointed principal horn Abel Pereira joined the ethereal string introduction midway, resulting in some of the most gorgeous orchestral playing of the evening. When the theme transferred to the flutes and clarinets, however, the sound quality diminished. Pereira’s gorgeous playing was on display in the night’s opening work, Wagner’s Overture to Tannhäuser and again in the closing work, the Symphony No. 8 in G major, op. 88, of Dvořák. While both pieces were dispatched with more precision than we're used to hearing from the NSO, neither compared to the musicality the orchestra and Eschenbach showed in the Grieg.

This concert repeats tonight and Saturday night, in the Kennedy Center Concert Hall.

Philadelphia Orchestra Breathes as One

We welcome this review from first-time contributor Michael De Sapio.

The Philadelphia Orchestra, under the baton of Yannick Nézet-Séguin (pictured), appeared at the Kennedy Center Tuesday night in a program of surefire romantic favorites -- Edvard Grieg's A minor piano concerto and Sergei Rachmaninoff's second symphony -- presented by Washington Performing Arts. The soloist in the Grieg was pianist Jan Lisiecki, who plays with a maturity and decisiveness that belie his mere twenty years. Lisiecki got the concerto off to an electrifying start with a thundering volley of octaves, yet his performance as a whole was notable for its intelligence and reflection. Grieg treats piano and orchestra as partners in this well-proportioned concerto, the piano more often than not emerging naturally out of the orchestral sound-picture; appropriately, Lisiecki played the role of a partner rather than a prima donna. He and the orchestra created moments of still, contemplative beauty in the second movement and the slow section of the finale. After a well-deserved standing ovation, Lisiecki offered an encore of a Chopin prelude (op. 28/15, the “Raindrop”).

Right from the opening bars of the Grieg, one had a palpable sense of ease and trust between the Philadelphians and their dynamic young conductor, who has been leading the orchestra since 2012 (including helping to lead it out of its financial troubles). Nézet-Séguin didn't so much conduct the music as coax it effortlessly out of the orchestra; the music-making had an organic flow. The expressive intention was so unanimous across the orchestra that regular eye contact with Nézet-Séguin was hardly necessary; conductor and orchestra simply breathed as one. Everything flowed naturally from the famed “Philadelphia sound,” a rich fullness of blend crowned by plush strings.

Other Articles: Anne Midgette, Philly beguiles with symphonic power (Washington Post, April 9) ---, Yannick, unique: Philadelphia Orchestra hopes it’s found its savior (Washington Post, April 2) Philadelphia Orchestra on Ionarts: 2013 | 2012 | 2011 | 2010 | 2009 December 2007 | June 2007 | 2005 | 2004

In fact the ensemble's performance was so impeccable that by the time the Rachmaninoff rolled around I realized there was no point picking it apart, so instead I focused on the work itself. A conductor once told me that Rachmaninoff thought of himself as a contrapuntal composer. Accustomed as we are to thinking of him as the composer of gushing tunes and luscious harmonies, this comes as a surprise. It made sense, though, when you listened to the introductory Largo of the symphony, with its winding string lines intertwining in an orchestral frieze of almost Bach-like intensity.

Was Rachmaninoff really a nostalgic Romantic who completely rejected modern sounds? That he was a lush Romantic there is no doubt; if you want gushing melodies, the third-movement Adagio offered a veritable waterfall. Yet the symphony also had moments with a starkness, brusqueness, and rhythmic energy which seemed modern in spirit. It seems only a small step from Rachmaninoff's sinister second-movement scherzo to the scherzos of Shostakovich. Washington audiences are very generous with their standing ovations, but the thunderous one that greeted the last note of the Rachmaninoff was well merited. No matter how well-worn these pieces, they are always welcome with playing of this caliber.

Karen Cargill Extraordinary

Alma and Gustav Mahler, Lieder, K. Cargill, S. Lepper (Linn, 2014)

Charles T. Downey, A noteworthy D.C. debut by Karen Cargill
Washington Post, April 9

If you’ve never heard the name Karen Cargill, let this review be your notification.

The Scottish mezzo-soprano had a grand and long-overdue Washington debut recital Tuesday evening, presented in the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater by Vocal Arts D.C. The program of brooding Romantic music by Gustav and Alma Mahler, Richard Wagner and Edvard Grieg hit her commanding and disciplined voice in its sweet spot.

Asked in an interview last year why she’s singing so much Mahler, Cargill responded, “Well, it’s where my voice is at.” This was true on her recording of Gustav’s five “Rückert Lieder” and Alma’s “Fünf Lieder”... [Continue reading]

Karen Cargill, mezzo-soprano
Simon Lepper, piano
Vocal Arts D.C.
Kennedy Center Terrace Theater

Joshua Bell Surprises

Bach, Violin Concertos (inter alia), Academy of St Martin in the Fields, J. Bell (Sony, 2014)

Joshua Bell's recital, presented by Washington Performing Arts on Tuesday night, did not even make the cut in my concert picks for the month of March. The American violinist comes to Washington in most years, most recently for a public performance at Union Station and the National Symphony Orchestra's season opener and again later in the season. WPAS has presented him in recital every other year or so, most recently in 2012 -- twice -- 2009, and 2008. As always, this recital sold out again, no matter how often he plays here, so my recommending it or not was beside the point, but a critic can be excused for feeling a little jaded about another performance by Joshua Bell. At least he was not playing the Franck sonata again, and the Brahms on the program was not the third sonata again -- these thoughts passed through my mind as I convinced myself to attend.

A gifted performer will surprise you, though, and Bell has turned a corner in my appreciation. As he told me wanted to do in a 2012 interview, he has moved in some new directions. His new recording of Bach concertos with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields, where he serves as both soloist and leader, shows a willingness to explore beyond his comfort zone of Romantic music. His opener on this recital, Beethoven's A minor violin sonata (op. 23), did not show much progress in the Classical period for Bell. True, the outer movements were quite fast, even a little wild, especially the finale, in which Bell seemed to race ahead of his pianist, Sam Haywood. The sforzandi had savage bite, and the slow movement was sweet, but the whole thing failed to transport, ending up feeling a little plain. Little worry, as it turned out, because two Romantic masterworks proved more vital, more effusive even than what Bell often brings to this sort of music.

Bell slashed through Grieg's first sonata (F major, op. 8) with broad, exciting strokes, his full and throaty tone enlivened by a mercurial rubato reminiscent of folk music, creating volcanic outbursts between sweet statements of the soft theme. The middle movement was perfect for Bell's trademarked soave sound, a perfect ribbon of sweet sound, with the B section treated like a folk fiddle reel. Again, Bell may have pushed the third movement slightly too fast, causing some alignment and intonation problems here and there, but the sense of unpredictability was also a pleasing effect. (It was a sign of how engaging the playing that paramedics removing a patron in a health crisis during the end of the first movement barely registered on me.)

Other Articles: Patrick Rucker, Violinist Joshua Bell meets his match in pianist Sam Haywood (Washington Post, April 2) Roizy Waldman, The Violin that Witnessed History (Ami Magazine, March 29) Emily Cary, ‘Meat and potatoes’ balance at Kennedy Center when violinist Bell and pianist Haywood take the stage (Washington Times, March 29) Libby Hanssen, Joshua Bell, Sam Haywood display virtuosity and partnership in concert at Helzberg Hall (Kansas City Star, March 15)

One knew that the Brahms first sonata (G major, op. 78) was going to be good from the very first phrase, where Bell struck just the right combination of hesitation and smoldering tone, and indeed this Brahms was everything that Raphaël Sévère had missed the previous evening. Every aspect of the violin part was ideal, down to the singing double-stop version of the slow movement's main theme, indicating that Bell could have a top-notch recording of the Brahms sonatas in the offing. My only reservation would be the choice of pianist, as Haywood did not do great things with the piano-only introduction to the second movement, and his playing, while technically able, felt too shy, too subservient for Brahms, especially the rather weak sound of the bass.

Bartók's first rhapsody was a nice match for the folk music aspects heard in other parts of the program. The first movement had an acidic edge, and both movements had that rhythmic flexibility that is a part of the folk music that so inspired the composer. Bell's technique was near-infallible in the many dazzling double-stop and off-string effects, but the piece worked because it made such musical sense. The icing on the cake was the choice of two encores that were completely opposite my expectations, beginning with Bell's own arrangement of Chopin's Nocturne No. 20 (C# minor, op. posth) and followed by Brahms's first Hungarian Dance.

Yo-Yo Ma Plays Dvořák

Dvořák, Cello Concerto, Yo-Yo Ma, Berlin Philharmonic, L. Maazel

Charles T. Downey, Yo-Yo Ma, National Symphony and an excellent Dvorak cello concerto (Washington Post, August 4, 2014)

On one hand, it was a foregone conclusion that the amassed public went wild for Yo-Yo Ma’s concert with the National Symphony Orchestra on Saturday night. The tickets in Wolf Trap’s Filene Center and on the lawn had sold out quickly, and people had battled the road-choking traffic, vast crowd and mild rain just to get there. On the other hand, Ma has a long history with Dvorak’s cello concerto, and he and the orchestra gave an excellent, if not perfect, performance of it... [Continue reading]

National Symphony Orchestra
With Yo-Yo Ma (cello) and Thomas Wilkins (conductor)
Filene Center at Wolf Trap

James Ehnes @ Clarice Smith

Charles T. Downey, Violinist James Ehnes and pianist Orion Weiss display vital chemistry at Clarice Smith (Washington Post, March 8, 2014)

Prokofiev, Complete Works for Violin, J. Ehnes (Chandos, 2013)

Among the leading violinists performing today, James Ehnes seems to fly under the radar. Because of his recordings and past performances in the Washington area, with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and Philadelphia Orchestra, the Canadian violinist is one not to miss. Yet his accomplished recital Thursday night, at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center at Maryland, did not fill the small Gildenhorn Recital Hall, an indication perhaps that Ehnes’s musicianship outstrips his attention-grabbing notoriety, entirely to his credit.

Aaron Copland’s “Sonata for Violin and Piano” was cool and airy, playing perhaps too much into the immaculate quality of tone Ehnes produced on his 1715 “Marsick” Stradivarius. The piece is a little snoozy, and Ehnes gave it no sizzle. [Continue reading]

James Ehnes (violin) and Orion Weiss (piano)
Copland, Sonata for Violin and Piano
Grieg, Violin Sonata No. 2
Schubert, Fantasy in C major
Clarice Smith Center

PREVIOUSLY:
Bartók | Paganini | Strads

BSO: 2011 | 2009 | 2007
Philadelphia Orchestra: 2012

NSO Ends Season with a Modern Bang

W. Lutosławski, Concerto for Orchestra (inter alia), Polish Radio National Symphony Orchestra, W. Lutosławski (EMI)

The regular season of the National Symphony Orchestra came to a memorable close last night in the Kennedy Center Concert Hall. Before heading off for summer shits and giggles at Wolf Trap, the ensemble brought back Witold Lutosławski's virtuosic Concerto for Orchestra, not heard from the NSO since 1998, pairing it with the one-night-only local premiere of the new piano concerto by James MacMillan, Mysteries of Light, completed in 2008 and premiered by the Minnesota Orchestra in 2011. It was daring programming that rewarded the hard-working musicians, who gave one of their finer performances of the season.

It was a rare enough thing to have heard one Lutosławski piece performed this month, but two is pretty much unheard of around these parts. Where the later Trois poèmes d'Henri Michaux is experimental and just downright weird -- a good weird, but still -- the earlier Concerto for Orchestra is sheer delight, in harmonic adventure, melodic appeal, rhythmic complexity, and most of all, orchestrational variety. The word tour de force truly applies. Most of the melodic material comes from a collection of Polish folk songs, treated in a fragmented, repetitive, motivic way. Stasis is one of the piece's hallmarks, with an F# pedal in the opening of the first movement later pinged by the celesta in a section for woodwinds and high strings. The second movement's rushing runs were stunningly fast but with pleasing subtlety, down to the enigmatic coda in the double basses and percussion. The passacaglia of the third movement began suavely, shot through with bluesy touches, the many orchestral colors and metric shifts preventing the relentless triple meter from becoming monotonous.

This was the NSO debut of conductor Krzysztof Urbanski, who took over the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra after Mario Venzago's contract was not renewed. He had a clear beat and a no-nonsense way of helping the musicians shape the music, rarely seeming at odds with them. He did have a regrettable tendency to use his cue hand to give showy gestures, like little finger flicks for trills or grace notes here and there, which were meant only for the audience's benefit. Still, he coaxed some murky pianissimi from the musicians in the second movement of the first suite from Grieg's music for Peer Gynt, "Åse's death." The strings, in particular, had a unified and pretty sound in this piece, leading a manic dance in "In the Hall of the Mountain King."

Other Reviews: Anne Midgette, Polish conductor, Kennedy Center organ impress as NSO closes season (Washington Post, June 21) Robert Reilly, Second Opinion: NSO with Tough MacMillan Nuts, Lutosławski Excitement (Ionarts, June 21)

MacMillan's new piano concerto struck me in much the same way as his second piano concerto did, its five movements, each representing one of the Luminous Mysteries added to the Rosary by Pope John Paul II in 2002, forming a multistylistic melange. MacMillan's Catholic devotion was on display in the quotation of Gregorian chant, most prominently the incipit of the Ave Maria chant, heard in increasingly dissonant settings, often hammered out like a motto (some of the rest of the chant is heard later). At the keyboard, Jean-Yves Thibaudet handled the often frenetic solo part with aplomb, a sort of commentary, sometimes urgent and sometimes reflective, on the mishmash of sounds from the orchestra. Each mystery had odd touches: the brass fanfare and trombone chorale of "Miraculum in Cana," the piano's atonal bird songs (a tribute to another Catholic modernist, Olivier Messiaen) against lush low string strings in "Proclamatio Regni Dei," a hymn tune that rose above multimetric chaos in "Transfiguratio Domini Nostri." It would be hard to meditate to this music while praying the Rosary, which was not MacMillan's goal, but it made for fun and diverting listening.

The evening was capped by only the second "Postlude" recital on the new Kennedy Center Concert Hall Organ this season, a series that the NSO hopes to broaden next season. At the console was Russell J. Weismann, whom I know from my time singing in the choir at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, who charmed in both his spoken introductions to the pieces and how he played them. He brought out the instrument's many colors, including the rather awful "Filene" stop, the only set of pipes that was kept from the old instrument that this organ replaced. The brief recital concluded with a trashy showpiece, Dudley Buck's Concert Variations on the Star-Spangled Banner, which was everything I dreaded it would be. If you were wondering if the American national anthem's melody could be made into a fugue, wonder no longer.

This concert repeats tonight and tomorrow night, with Saint-Saëns's fifth piano concerto unfortunately replacing the MacMillan piece and no organ recital.

Second Opinion: NSO with Tough MacMillan Nuts, Lutosławski Excitement

Many thanks to Robert R. Reilly for this review from The Kennedy Center.

Thursday night, at the Kennedy Center,the National Symphony Orchestra welcomed Polish conductor Krzysztof Urbanski in a program of Edvard Grieg, James MacMillan, and Witold Lutosławski.

Grieg’s Suite No.1 from Peer Gynt made for a nice curtain raiser and warm-up piece. It also revealed the style of the very young conductor, who only graduated from the Chopin Music Academy in Warsaw in 2007. Mr. Urbanski kept the beat with his baton in his right hand, and did a good deal of expressive sculpting with his left hand—almost as if he was playing it as an instrument. I don’t think this was an affectation and even if it was, it seemed to produce very good results. I was particularly struck by the second movement, Ase’s Death, which is a threnody for strings alone, with all but the double basses playing with mutes. The NSO string section positively glowed with warmth and feeling, down to the final, exquisite pianissimo. In the last movement, In the Hall of the Mountain King, Urbanski showed that he knew how to build a movement with the whole orchestra to an impressive climax.

Other Reviews: Charles Downey, NSO Ends Season with a Modern Bang (21.6.13)

I was very interested to hear MacMillan’s Piano Concerto No.3, which was composed for performing pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet, who premiered the piece with the Minnesota Orchestra in 2011. It has taken some time for me to be won over by this Scottish Catholic composer, but the work that finally did it was his Seven Last Words, an ineffably moving Good Friday meditation. Still, much of his music is difficult, and so were parts of this Concerto. (I would suggest that those who have assimilated the musical and extra-musical language of French composer Olivier Messiaen would not have much of a problem with it. The programmers at the NSO must have known that this was the case [Ed. or simply don’t trust their audience], which is why they have placed Saint-Saëns’ Concerto No. 5 in lieu of the MacMillan, for the remaining two performances of the program. The piece is subtitled The Mysteries of Light. MacMillan said he wished “to revive the ancient practice of writing based on the structure of the rosary”. The Mysteries of Light title is a reference to the Luminous Mysteries of the rosary introduced by Pope John Paul II in 2002. They are, in English: the baptism of Jesus Christ; the miracle in Cana; the proclamation of the reign of God; the Transfiguration of our Lord; and the institution of the Eucharist.The five movements are played continuously.

Read more »

An Exquisite Hour with Anne Sofie von Otter

Grieg, Songs, A. S. von Otter, B. Forsberg [REVIEW] Sibelius, Songs, A. S. von Otter, B. Forsberg Swedish Songs (Peterson-Berger, Stenhammar, von Koch), A. S. von Otter, B. Forsberg

Your critic, and no one is likely to argue with me on this, is not accustomed to writing raves. Most concerts offered at a professional level are generally good, some have particular strengths (and weaknesses) that merit mention, a small number are exceptional, only a few truly extraordinary. Once in a very rare while, I hear a concert that attains that crucial combination of diverting programming performed to an impeccable standard by musicians who seem perfectly matched to the music they are performing. The Monday night recital by mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter and pianist Bengt Forsberg, offered by the Fortas Chamber Music series in the context of the Kennedy Center's Nordic Cool festival in the Terrace Theater (both artists are Swedish), was in that category. After von Otter's last recital in the area, with music drawn from her top-notch Terezín album, we looked forward to great things, possibly inflated expectations that make the achievement all the more remarkable.

One part of the evening's success was the choice of music, full of contrast and range in many courses, like the best meals. The opening pairing, of two songs by Wilhelm Peterson-Berger (1867-1942), was a case in point: the sweeping, epic Intet är som väntanstider (Nothing is like waiting time, from Fridolin's Songs), with Forsberg swooping and swelling on the broad piano part, followed by the dreamy ballad Som stjärnorna på himmelen (Like the stars in the sky -- all singers, go look this song up now, from the Four Songs in Swedish Folktone, op. 5/3), a delicate pastry of delicious consonants and vowels, with Forsberg in both cases knowing just how much sound to provide to support his singer. That Peterson-Berger wrote the opera Arnljot (considered the Swedish national opera, according to the program notes) and was a fierce newspaper critic was icing on the cake. The whole Swedish set -- no "titans," as von Otter put it, but all worth discovering (see her CD of Swedish songs to do just that) -- was like this, with pairings devoted to Wilhelm Stenhammar (1871-1927) -- the chromatically enticing In the Maple's Shade a stand-out -- and Sigurd von Koch (1879-1919), whose Debussy-misty Spring Night's Rain and equally wild, thrashing The Wild Swans were both thrilling.

A set of Sibelius songs, also set to Swedish poetry, was almost a let-down after that, with the exception of the gloomy, surprising My Bird Is Long in Homing, quickly surpassed by the Grieg pairing -- the stately and tender Våren (Spring) and the swaggering lover's boast of Midsummer Eve. The strength of the Nordic half was not the size or volume of von Otter's voice, which could be full and radiant but also elegant and contained, but the delectation of the poetry, like the experience of bathing in Ibsen's Norwegian last week. After spending intermission wishing von Otter would stick to these Nordic songs, it was a welcome surprise to be equally taken by her French diction and way with artless simplicity in French songs, especially Reynaldo Hahn's setting of Paul Verlaine's L'Heure Exquise standing out in a generally fine Hahn set. In the same vein of vaguely perverse sensuality was Debussy's Chansons de Bilitis, with Forsberg's hands providing corrupt pastel wisps of sound behind the evocative melody presented with understated eloquence by von Otter.

Other Reviews: Anne Midgette, Anne Sofie von Otter, accompanist Bengt Forsberg beguile with their easy style (Washington Post, March 6)

Forsberg was a consummate accompanist in all of these songs, and he also provided a few brief solo piano moments of vocal rest for his soloist. The best of these was Debussy's prelude Des pas sur la neige, appended without a break to the end of the Bilitis set, to which it provided an apt postlude, continuing from the third song, about a snowy walk to a frozen naiad spring. Forsberg's take on this piece, an animated story-telling incantation, was everything one missed in the performance by Víkingur Ólafsson last week. The other solo selections were less entrancing -- Sibelius's Brahmsian Romance in A Major (op. 24/2), Grieg's murky, unorthodox Rotnamsknut (op. 72/7), Chabrier's restless Idylle (from Pièces pittoresques), unraveled quite beautifully -- but always diverting, unexpected, and perfectly suited to the songs they accompanied. A final set of Canteloube folk songs, selected from Chants d'Auvergne, was perfumed with nostalgia and odd quirks, the whirring wheel of The Spinner (in both piano and the singer's spiralling "Ti lirou lirou" refrain) and cuckoo calls dotting the music hall comedy of Lou Coucut. Two encores brought down the house -- Charles Trenet's Boum!, given a manic and hilarious rendition, and a charming little song by Björn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson, two of the the artists formerly known as ABBA.

Anne Sofie von Otter remains in Washington this week, with some rare Nordic weather nicely planned for her, because she will also sing a set of Schubert songs, in some interesting orchestrations, with the National Symphony Orchestra (March 7 to 9).

Víkingur Ólafsson, Easy Listening

Charles T. Downey, Pianist presents dreamy, snoozy images of ‘The North’
Washington Post, February 27, 2013

Debut, V. Ólafsson (mp3)

“Nordic Cool,” the name of the Kennedy Center’s cultural festival this year, evokes many characteristics of the world’s northern regions: its vastness, its emptiness, its frigidity, its silence. Icelandic pianist Víkingur Ólafsson took Glenn Gould’s cryptically autobiographical thoughts on this “Idea of North” as the basis of an odd recital, “The North Is a State of Mind,” that he performed at the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater on Monday night.

As it turned out, this wan and bloodless program, consisting mostly of dreamy music dreamily played, was more like “Nordic Mellow.” Olafsson has a delicate touch at the keyboard and chose mostly sedate, less challenging fare to highlight that aspect of his playing, his sense of rubato mostly focused on slowing down. [Continue reading]

Víkingur Ólafsson, piano
Kennedy Center Terrace Theater

Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Opens Nordic Cool

Diplomats and other officials from the Nordic countries gathered at the Kennedy Center on Tuesday night to inaugurate this year's geographically oriented cultural festival, Nordic Cool. The Kennedy Center's halls will host performances by Nordic theater troupes, dancers, and musicians through March 17, a series of events kicked off by a short program -- a sort of musical Smörgåsbord -- performed by the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra in the Concert Hall. On the outside of the building, the blue lighting -- which I took to be glacier blue when I first saw it -- was completed by green lasers imitating the shapes of the aurora borealis, a light installation called Northern Lights, created by Jesper Kongshaug. On the grounds out front, the majestic wooden sculptures of Juha Pykäläinen's Elk Towers stride towards the entrance.

Fresh off a concert at Carnegie Hall last weekend, music director Sakari Oramo led the RSPO in five pieces by composers representing the main Nordic countries. Finland received the most obvious choice, Sibelius's tone poem Finlandia, to open the concert with a bang. Oramo took time with the ominous opening brass chords, waiting until the fast section to let the piece roll, shaped into a to-the-hilt rendition of cinematic scope. Iceland was represented by the most unexpected selection, the Njáls Saga Scherzo, a movement from the first symphony by Jón Liefs (1899-1968, pictured above). The so-called "Saga Symphony," the piece is a programmatic evocation of characters and episodes from Icelandic epic poetry, and this movement depicts the quest of a hero, Kári Sölmundarson, to avenge the murder of his wife's family. In a rollicking 6/8 meter, the dance is unsettled by metric shifts, burbling winds (delightful bassoons, especially), col legno strikes in the strings, and metallic anvil or sword strokes -- a joyful slaughter.

Sweden and Denmark had more conventional fare, beginning with Hugo Alfvén (1872–1960), representing his native Sweden with his yearning, standard-Romantic song Så tag mit hjerte ("So Take My Heart"), and Edvard Grieg's Solveig's Song from Peer Gynt. Swedish soprano Inger Dam-Jensen brought an ardent and present tone to these lovely songs, only a slightly overactive vibrato not quite suited to floating the long melisma that ends each stanza of the Grieg song, especially its high, fragile final note. Our tour of the north ended in Denmark, with the most substantial piece on the program, Carl Nielsen's fourth symphony ("Det uudslukkelige"). I wrote about the piece extensively when Christoph Eschenbach Thomas Dausgaard brought it back into the repertory of the National Symphony Orchestra in 2011, and frankly was hoping to hear another of Nielsen's symphonies, heard too infrequently in these parts.

Other Reviews: Anne Midgette, Nordic Cool at Kennedy Center opens with potluck (Washington Post, February 21) Zachary Woolfe, A Grab Bag of Sound (New York Times, February 18)

If Asteroid DA14 had come 17,000 miles closer to us earlier this month, so this symphony's program assures us, life would bloom again out of destruction. Oramo's frenetic conducting style informed this somewhat jangling rendition, with its large outbursts, disjointed dotted-rhythm motifs, growling violas, but also super-soft string sounds and tender scherzo, leading to a slow movement that began with what seemed like an ancient incantation. Of course, the insect-buzzing textures that open the fourth movement lead to the most famous dueling timpani passages in the symphonic literature, which did not disappoint in this version. Only some occasional dolorous tuning in the woodwinds detracted from a fine outing for the RPSO. An encore of Alfvén's Vallflickans dans (Shepherd Girl's Dance) capped off the concert, played without intermission so that the well-heeled guests could proceed to enjoy another kind of Smörgåsbord at a white-tie dinner.

The Nordic Cool festival has too much on offer for one person to hear, but we plan to cover concerts by pianist Vikingur Ólafsson (February 25), violinist Pekka Kuusisto with the NSO (February 28 to March 2), and a recital by mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter (March 4), as well as the production of Hedda Gabler by the National Theater of Norway (February 26 to 27).

Ionarts-at-Large: Grieg in Heels, Sibelius in Dire Straits

Played by the Munich Philharmonic under Paavo Järvi on a Sunday morning, Benjamin Britten’s “Simple Symphony” op.4 for string orchestra sounded like a big blob of music. For one, it doesn’t strike me as a piece well suited for the character of the orchestra. An agile, edgy chamber orchestra might just salvage this youthful clunker written for student orchestra, but that’s not a style the Philharmonic can easily emulate at their best, much less so ante meridiem. And so the Simple Symphony sounded as tired as the alliterative movement titles: “Boisterous Bourrée”, “Playful Pizzicato”, “Sentimental Sarabande”, and “Frolicsome Finale”. Really? “Frolicsome Finale”? Let me have a go at it: At least the superficial sweetness of the serene slow movement, and Britten’s humble honesty about his recycled rhapsody of a school suite clumsily cobbled from drafts dating a dozen years back were enjoyable enough.

At a couple of minutes, the Simply Symphony might be pleasant; as it is, it lasts trice as long as the music it contains. For all the disappointment, there was the glimmer of hope that Paavo Järvi had chosen this piece so that he might have more time to rehearse Sibelius’ First Symphony. Perhaps so, but the performance did not suggest it.

Since World War II, continental Europe is a Sibelian wasteland. Especially in the German musical realm Sibelius is ignored—in good part due to the particularly ignorant diatribes of Theodor Adorno (with René Leibowitz as his footman). For all the classical music glories of the region, those persistent, dogged areas of ignorance are hard to fathom and harder still to excuse. The argument for Sibelius as (one of) the greatest symphonist(s) since Beethoven would fall on deaf (at best bemused) ears in the countries he has been written about as an “amateurish” proponent of the “asceticism of impotence” (Adorno) or outright “le plus mauvais compositeur du monde” (Leibowitz).

J.Sibelius, Symphonies 1 & 3, P.Inkinen, New Zealand SO Naxos

The ability to play and listen to Sibelius has declined precipitously in continental Europe, with only a few islands of Sibelius reception exceptions probing this rule. Karajan made a few, limited but excellent, forays into Sibelius territory in Berlin, as did the Russian-educated Commander of the Order of the British Empire Kurt Sanderling. Lorin Maazel recorded an excellent symphony cycle with the Vienna Philharmonic in the late 60s. Those aside, there is not a continental European orchestra to be found among the 28 that have recorded the Sibelius symphonies. Sibelius is a Anglo-Nordic affair and unless Simon Rattle in Berlin or Jukka-Pekka Saraste in Cologne do something about it, one has to wait for guest conductors to bring the composer to German orchestras… and hope for the best.

Paavo Järvi and the Munich Philharmonic might have justified some of that hope, with a performance that occasionally hinted at the promise of idiomatic Sibelius. But the audience wouldn’t have it. From the first notes of the cough-riddled clarinet solo – sultry and soft as butter courtesy Alexandra Gruber – the audience proved inattentive, unwilling or incapable of getting into that spellbinding element, that Nordic vortex of Sibelius’ stark and gently searing world. Earlier leavers, exit alarms (or else the loudest haywire hearing aid ever), and an attention-grabbing case of fainting did their best to keep Sibelius at the fringe; excited but shrill violins, slipshod ensemble work, and a distinct lack of that staggered, nebulous depth, the insinuations and allegories of notes so typical for Sibelius did the rest. If Sibelius barely survived, it wasn’t for lack of loudness, though – Järvi happily cranked the orchestra up to 11.

Where other young pianists use the “I-can’t-pedal-in-heels” excuse to appear barefoot (because it’s an either-or, apparently), Khatia Buniatishvili seems to attempt to prove the opposite, pedaling her way through the Grieg Piano Concerto in 8 inch heels. Whose point was made by her performance is hard to say. The heavy romantic approach to Grieg as ‘Rachmaninoff-for-smaller-hands’ checked all the expectation-boxes of the romantic piano concerto, but my tastes must have moved on, as I was all the more reminded of how wonderful Rudolf Buchbinder performed the same concerto with the same orchestra (under Christian Thielemann) three years ago: With classical cool and near-Mozartean lightness. In the first movement Buniatishvili favored enthusiasm over accuracy. Her lusciousness was put to gorgeous effect in the Adagio, and her pianissimos in the third movement – in danger of being drowned out as they were – showed that she has something to say in every dynamic range. The encore – Liszt’s third Liebestraum – fit the slightly unimaginative romantic bill… too much, too heavy, too sweet so early in the day.

Musical Journey Through Norway

April in Oslo. Celebratory sunshine and blue skies; weather as if made for a train trip across the Hardangerviddato mountain plateau from Oslo to Bergen, Norway’s second largest town and home of Edvard Grieg. It's a trip alleged to be one of the world’s loveliest.

Summer or winter are said to be the times to take this trip. Spring, as it turns out, might not be ideal. Through the woody hills and into the tunnels, out of Oslo, to Drammen and on toward Hønefoss, along the Drammenselva river and the large, ice-covered Tyrifjorden lake, nature is still on the verge of turning from brown to green, with spotty patches of snow in the shadows and on the slopes… A sense of white-green-gray ambivalence pervades most of the trip.

The rivers are lined by dense conifer forests, sometimes dotted with white birches. Every once in a while the view is enriched by farms around which a timid green shows that spring will take court even up here. Eventually. Black glazed tiles on little red houses glisten in the sun and the hill sides get steeper; always along rivers that have already carved out a route that the train tracks (built about a hundred years ago) now only need to follow. Caravan-colonies (Germans, a safe guess) cling to little patches of land between the woods like birds to rocks off shore.

J.Svendsen, Norwegian Rhapsodies et al., South Jutland SO / B.Engeset Naxos

With the convenience of free internet service (on and off in the people-free mountainside of central Norway) and the Naxos Music Library putting most of the music I could possibly want to access at my fingertips, the soundtrack is easily picked; I start with the gorgeous, lush romantic music of Johan Svendsen (1840-1911). Romeo og Julie op.18, The four Norwegian Rhapsodies (opp.17, 19, 21, 22), and Zorahayda op.11 (Naxos 8.570322) are like a blend of the most agreeable elements of Liszt, Tchaikovsky, and Wagner. This isn’t too surprising; like most Scandinavian composers of that time, Svendsen studied in Germany and played violin in the first ever assembled Bayreuth Festival Orchestra for the cornerstone-laying ceremony (1872). Svendsen, who was head of the Royal Opera in Copenhagen, is equally at home in the showy and grand, tender and sweet, and fleeting Ballet-influenced bits, all of which appear in the Rhapsodies.

The wood-paneled Norwegian State Railway’s train, with light beige leather seats in a reasonably comfortable arrangement, meanders along, crawling through the hillside toward Gol (“Crowing”), with its little wooden station building in the official Bergen Railway canary-yellow and onward to Ål. The train enters one tunnel, then another and another… and suddenly the ice on the lakes get thicker and whiter and the mountaintops, near and distant, gleam in snowy white. In the sun the dark blue Hallingdalselva river flows among the rocks, with thick packed snow-banks hanging off both sides.

White Night: Impressions of Norwegian Folk Music, Det Norske Solistkor / Grete Pedersen BIS

“White Night – Impressions of Norwegian Folk Music” on BIS (SACD-1871) with arrangements for Hardanger fiddle (Gjermund Larsen), chorus (Norwegian Soloist’s Choir), and folk singer (Berit Opheim Versto) conducted by Grete Pedersen is the next logical, perfectly suited, though ever so slightly melancholic choice. Norwegian music without the strong German influence, it turns out, has at its heart a mildly despondent, drop-dead-gorgeous but glum element… and even a wedding march (“Brurmarsj fra Valsøfjord”, my favorite piece) seems to remind more of the hard time to come than the joy of the unifying moment. Occasionally, with a waltz or an explicit dance tune, the mood moves toward reluctant rejoicing… but the Hardingfele can fiddle away as vigorously as it might, it retains an air of ‘memories past’.

During “Jeg lagde mig sa sildig” (“I lay down so late”), my ears perk. Haven’t I heard this before? A little search on the Naxos Music Library reveals: Yes. Edvard Grieg has also set this folk tune for chorus, and the same forces have recorded it for BIS last year… so the next tracks on my playlist are set.

E.Grieg, Choral Music, Det Norske Solistkor / Grete Pedersen BIS

“Choral Music by Grieg” (SACD-1661) is a particularly enchanting disc of pieces written for chorus by Grieg and arranged so by others. The popular “At Rondane”, op.33, No.2 (originally for voice and piano) is plain gorgeous in its moody way and resonant, in full-bodied choral guise. Grieg himself arranged two religious songs for mixed choir of which “Withered, Fallen – At the Bier of a Young Wife” sounds predictable but touching with its cathedral-like piety. The non-Norwegian ear will always pick up a certain preciousness: that silver-voiced, Christmas-choir touch with scents and touches of mulled wine, snow boots, and blond locks under a woolen hat. But this is perhaps particular to my Washington-conditioned ears which had hitherto always associated enthusiastic Norwegian choirs with Christmas. “Margaret’s Cradle Song” is a 90 second gem written in appreciation of the birth of his daughter Alexandra in 1868. It is set to the Ibsen poem of the same name and is hauntingly beautiful. Alexandra, however, never got to appreciate her song; she died shortly after it was written. Tragic yet, being set to something by Ibsen, also terribly appropriate.

Read more »

Maazel Cracks the Whip with NSO

Charles T. Downey, Music review: Lorin Maazel conducts NSO
Washington Post, October 29, 2011

Rachmaninoff, Piano Concertos 1/4, S. Trpčeski, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, V. Petrenko

Lorin Maazel, one of the world’s most accomplished and most senior conductors, has entered a glowing, autumnal phase in his career. In rather active semi-retirement since stepping down two years ago from a sometimes rocky tenure at the New York Philharmonic, Maazel has been giving performances characterized by warm, lovingly crafted mentorship — not descriptions one could always apply to this most imperious of leaders. In Maazel’s last appearance with the National Symphony Orchestra, in 2009, he galvanized the musicians — who were then at the end of a rudderless interregnum period before the advent of current music director Christoph Eschenbach.

Maazel did it again Friday night at the Kennedy Center, this time launching the NSO into a tight, muscled rendition of Berlioz’s overture to “Benvenuto Cellini,” imparting heroic fire to the music given to Berlioz’s violent, swashbuckling hero — the sculptor who speaks truth to power as he fights dramatic intrigues behind a papal commission for a bronze statue of Perseus.

The NSO has not played this overture since 1993, under the baton of then-guest conductor Leonard Slatkin. One did not expect its challenges to come back naturally to the musicians, but Maazel led with such a firm beat, so confident about the many transitions of tempo, that the piece fell easily into place. [Continue reading]

SEE ALSO:
Emily Cary, Trpceski debuts with Maazel and NSO (Washington Examiner, October 26)

Zachary Woolfe, Maazel, a Baton From the Past, Returns for a Visit to the Philharmonic (New York Times, October 21)

Listen What the Cat Dragged In: Grieg's Symphonic Works

E.Grieg, Complete Symphonic Works v.1, E.Aadland / WDRSO Cologne audite SACD E.Grieg, Complete Symphonic Works v.2, E.Aadland / WDRSO Cologne audite SACD

The first thing that strikes one about these first two volumes of Edvard Grieg’s “Complete Symphonic Works” is how lovely they are packaged: Each (multichannel hybrid) SACD is contained in a three-way folding digipack graced by a very smart design: The oil painting “The Enchanted Forest” by Edvard Munch, Grieg’s namesake and compatriot, is reproduced on each cover. On itself, the coupling of Munch visual with Grieg audio isn’t very novel. But the five children in the foreground (they are taken out on a trip by their teacher—the latter’s hat is visible on the actual painting though not here—when they stop and gaze in amazement at the forest that comes into view) remain half transparent while only one child is, in turn, projected in full color and twice the normal size. That will do for five volumes—which, in a roundabout way, begs the question: What constitutes the “Complete Symphonic Works” of Grieg?

E.Grieg, Symphonic Dances, op.64 No. 1, Allegro moderato e marcato (excerpt)

Five discs might seem a good deal of music, given that the generally known orchestral music by Grieg is limited to the Peer Gynt Suites, the Piano Concerto, and the neo-baroque suite “From Holberg’s Time”. But the Swedish label BIS (in charge of pan-Nordic musical matters) has a set of Grieg’s “Complete Orchestral Works” (with Ole Kristian Ruud and Grieg’s home-town orchestra, the superb Bergen Philharmonic) that contains eight discs. And Naxos, another label strong on Scandinavian music, extends its Grieg series (under Bjarte Engeset) over seven discs. Something has to go… something that is apparently ‘orchestral’, but not ‘symphonic’. The answer is that “Symphonic” does not include works ncluded with voice whereas “orchestral” can include these works, too, as it is the case in other Grieg editions.

The complete incidental music for Peer Gynt is also missing, although it might not be missed. The core works, including the Piano Concerto (under the above definition not just ‘orchestral’ but also ‘symphonic’), are all included, which means you'll find the Lyric Suite for Orchestra op. 54, Grieg’s Symphony (there is one), the Norwegian Dances, the three Sigurd Jorsalfar Pieces op.56, and then plenty more you might not even have known existed. (A more detailed list on audite’s release notes, here.) The musical results with the WDR Symphony Orchestra Cologne under Evind Aadland are wonderful in the first two volumes. The former concert master of the Bergen Philharmonic (a violin student of Menuhin) and current music director of the Trondheim Symphony Orchestra (a conducting student of the legendary Jorma Panula) makes much of this music with lively, never hackneyed, very well played, and—being live performances—very atmospheric performances. Aadland’s focus on the folk elements in Grieg’s music—based on extant Norwegian folk bits rather than faux-folk of his own creation à la Dvořák or Brahms—seems to show.

E.Grieg, Nordic Melodies, op.63 Kulokk, Andantino (excerpt)

How the Norwegian-German set, once it is a finished, compares to Ruud’s and Engeset’s will have to be heard. On individual discs, BIS also offers gorgeously designed SACDs and Norway’s finest orchestra, recorded in the splendid acoustic of Grieg Hallen in Bergen, but is quite expensive. (As a set it comes in conventional ‘Red Book’ CD stereo and very reasonably priced.) Naxos isn’t as cheap anymore as it once was, but it’s still ugly. The performances under Engeset are splendid, though. Only Norwegian purists will object, if jokingly, that five of the discs are performed with the Swedish (!) Malmö Symphony Orchestra.