Tharaud Champions Satie

Erik Satie: Avant-dernières pensées, A. Tharaud and Friends (released on February 10, 2009) Harmonia Mundi HMC 902017.18 Online scores: Erik Satie

When it comes to a list of recorded achievements made by the age of 40, few pianists have succeeded like Alexandre Tharaud. Since his first recording for the Harmonia Mundi label in 2001, and before that on Naxos, Tharaud has released a series of discs, many of which are essential listening for any collector. He has shown a special affinity for two areas of repertory, the Baroque (Rameau, Couperin, and extraordinary Bach) and French music of the early 20th century (Poulenc and Debussy cello sonatas with Jean-Guihen Queyras, Ravel, Poulenc, and Milhaud), although he has made a very pleasing detour into the 19th century, with discs of the preludes and waltzes of Chopin and some Schubert. When I spoke with Tharaud, informally, after his Washington recital at La Maison Française last October (which I reviewed for the Washington Post), he told me about this new Satie disc, which he had just recorded earlier that spring. The recording has many delights, a few dogs, and much that reinforces my impression of Satie the composer -- witty, quirky, and sometimes off-putting. Certainly, as Tharaud and friends play him, Satie is worth hearing.

The first disc is devoted to the solo piano music, arranged in a program around the famous Gnossiennes, played just as they should be, languorous but simple, with few adjustments of the gentle, undulating -- but not oily -- pace. The best definition of what a Gnossienne is, to my knowledge, is an imagined dance named for a woman of Knossos in Crete (a Gnossien is a resident of Knossos). Like the Gymnopédies (one of them is included here), an equally mysterious word that may or may not mean a naked dance, their unusual scalar vocabulary and free, vaguely metered rhythmic sense may be an evocation of or tribute to imagined Greek music. To represent a much more extensive oeuvre, Tharaud's selections feature the many sides of Satie's style, including the satirical (Véritables Préludes flasques), jazz-influenced (the rag Le Piccadilly), surreal (Descriptions automatiques, including the Habanera-like Sur un vaisseau), winkingly postmodern (the ridiculous Beethoven parody in endless hammered cadences in Embryons desséchés), and experimental (the prepared piano jangling like percussion and banjo, in the seven pieces from Le piège de Méduse).

A second disc features pieces requiring two musicians, to mixed success. The four-hands piano works (Trois morceaux en forme de poire, La Belle Excentrique, and Cinéma), with pianist Éric Le Sage, are a delight to have in my collection, as are lesser-known works for tenor (the clear-voiced Jean Delescluse) and violin (the luscious Stradivarius of Isabelle Faust). Poor trumpeter David Guerrier is heard for only about 15 seconds at the end of La statue retrouvée. It was an ingenious idea to use the rougher voice of cabaret singer Juliette, and her distinctive works so well in the comic songs like Chez le docteur, but less so in the ballads like Je te veux, where a more refined sound is missed. At the end of the final track (5:30, after long silence), some uncredited words are spoken (by Tharaud?): "J'ai plus de plaisir à mesurer un son que je n'en ai à l'entendre. [...] Que n'ai-je pesé ou mesuré ? Tout de Beethoven, tout de Verdi, etc. C'est très curieux. [...] Passons. Je reviendrai sur ce sujet." (I take greater pleasure in measuring a sound than I do in hearing it. [...] What have I not weighed or measured? All of Beethoven, all of Verdi, etc. It's very strange. [...] Let's move on. I will come back to this subject). It turns out that these are a few lines spliced together from Satie's Mémoires d'un amnésique (Memoirs of an amnesiac). Let us hope it is a sign of another Satie album to come from Tharaud and Co.

120'07"

Accentus Rethinks Fauré

G. Fauré, Requiem Mass / Cantique de Jean Racine, S. Piau, S. Degout, Accentus, L. Equilbey (released on November 18, 2008) Naïve V 5137

The talented and wide-ranging chamber choir Accentus, based in Paris and directed by Laurence Equilbey, is a group we hope to hear live soon. Their impressive discography includes an intriguing selection of Liszt's sacred music and a program of choral transcriptions that Jens has reviewed for WETA. Neither of the sacred choral works of Fauré on this new disc, the setting of (most of) the Requiem Mass (op. 48) and the Cantique de Jean Racine, really needs a new recording, but anyone looking to buy their first recording or get a new perspective on these somewhat overexposed works should give this new version by Accentus and members of the Orchestre national de France a spin. The performances could not be more authentically French, and not only in the pronunciation of the Racine translation of Consors paterni luminis in the Cantique (much more about the living than the dead, which makes its typical programming with the Requiem Mass something of a mystery). Sandrine Piau gives a heart-melting rendition of the Pie Jesu movement of the Requiem, with what must be the perfect voice, all shimmering color at the center of the tone, for that most famous aria, which is done so poorly so often. Baritone Stéphane Degout is a mellow, golden cantorial presence in the Offertorium and Libera Me, and the children's voices of the Maîtrise de Paris hover ethereally above the Accentus voices in the In paradisum.

The best option for a reference recording of the Fauré Requiem is the original 1893 orchestration, for chamber orchestra (two horns, two trumpets, three trombones, timpani, harp, violas, cellos, double basses, organ, solo violin), which is what is recorded here, rather than the later augmentation for full orchestra, which may have been carried out for publication by Fauré's student Jean Roger-Ducasse and is found in many older recordings. The 1893 version of the score was not published until 1994, after the parts were discovered in the archives of the Eglise de La Madeleine, where Fauré was maître de chapelle and organist, by musicologist Jean-Michel Nectoux. Although not recorded at La Madeleine, where Fauré led the premiere of the work (to commemorate the death of King Louis XVI, a royalist association that does not attach much to the work anymore), this recording benefits from the acoustic of the church of Sainte-Clotilde, in the 7e arrondissment, which provides a warm, resonant background for luscious sound. The organ of Sainte-Clotilde, a legendary Cavaillé-Coll instrument inaugurated by César Franck and updated by Charles Tournemire and Jean Langlais, produces an extraordinary range of sounds in the hands of Christophe Henry (much of the original sound has been restored in recent renovations of the organ).

41'21"

Happy Anniversary, G. F.

Handel, "Great" Harpsichord Suites (vol. 1, 1720), J. Vinikour (released on March 31, 2009) Delos DE 3394

We hope that you spent at least part of your day thinking about Handel or at least listening to some of his music. The great keyboard player, composer, and -- yes -- businessman died on April 14, 1759, 250 years ago. We thank Dennis Mahoney for sending us a link to his article on the event, Handel Reborn (The Morning News, April 14), with some suggestions on the major works you might want to get to know better. Dennis's choices are all great ones, to which we add the following from the pile of recordings lately received at Ionarts Central, as a lagniappe.

This lovely disc of all eight of the "Great" harpsichord suites, published by Handel as a set in 1720, is performed by American harpsichordist Jory Vinikour, on a grand instrument tuned to Bradley Lehmann's Bach tuning. Handel's keyboard music is underplayed considering just how rewarding it is for the listener -- we have reviewed any of these suites live only once in the history of Ionarts. There is not really a pre-existing favorite recording to my ears, but Murray Perahia's take on some of these suites on the piano and Glenn Gould's flirtation with half of them at the harpsichord would also be recommended. As for complete versions, harpsichord over piano (like the quirky set by Andrei Gavrilov and Sviatoslav Richter, now digitally remastered) is a must, and Vinikour has the dexterity and interpretative sparkle to do a fine job of channeling the theatricality of Handel the performer. Most piano teachers tend to assign Bach and not much else for the Baroque portion of their students' repertory. It was not until I had some more freedom in choosing what I played as a graduate student that works by Handel, Rameau, Couperin, and Byrd found their way into my practice sessions. The Handel suites are even more varied in tone than those of Bach, since Handel was much freer with the form of the suite and his suites do not consist only of dance movements. So do yourself a favor and listen to this economically priced 2-CD set, and better yet print out some of the scores and give them a whirl at your own keyboard.

127'47"

Vivaldi Edition: New Discoveries

Vivaldi, New Discoveries, R. Basso, Modo Antiquo, F. M. Sardelli (released on February 24, 2009) Naïve OP 30480

Like most fans of Baroque music, we have been following the progress of the Vivaldi Edition closely, as more of the works of Antonio Vivaldi are being sought out in archives, catalogued, and recorded on the Naïve label. Most exciting have been the operas, most recently the splendid Atenaide (a review of the just released La fida ninfa is forthcoming), because of the superlative performers enlisted to make the recordings, the flower of the burgeoning HIP movement in Italy. This new disc brings together several small pieces newly discovered and now attributed to Vivaldi through the research of various specialists (all certified by musicologist Michael Talbot, who contributed the liner notes). The performances are entrusted to Modo Antiquo, the ensemble led by Federico Maria Sardelli, with the excellent results one would expect from them. The most enjoyable revelation on this recording is a motet for contralto, Vos invito, discovered in the library of the Basilica di San Francesco in Assisi, thought to have been composed for Assisi or for the sister house of the Basilica del Santo in Padua, where Vivaldi was known to have done some work in 1712 and 1713.

To hear it for the first time, we have the striking voice of Romina Basso, heard and much appreciated in the recordings of Atenaide and in Alan Curtis's recording of Motezuma. The narrator of this text, stated in the first person, is an unnamed virgin martyr tortured by fire, wild animals, and armed men. The text does not seem to line up with the life of St. Justina, an early martyr whose remains are in the Basilica at Padua and who is one of that city's patrons, but the three types of suffering are more or less an exact match to the vita of St. Thecla, the disciple of St. Paul who according to her legend was saved from three types of pain and death (being burned at the stake, thrown to savage animals, and raped by a band of ruffians). St. Thecla died in Syria, but she is venerated in the Cathedral of Este, not too far from Padua, where it was widely believed she had saved the city from plague in the 17th century. Just a thought.

Basso's voice is a force of nature in its low range, although in a few of the faster passages of runs she is less than elegant. Other delights include a sonata now identified in two slightly different versions, one for recorder (RV 806) played with daring panache by Sardelli himself and the other for violin (or possibly oboe, RV 810). Basso also sings two other individual secular arias, whose association with a Vivaldi opera, if any, is still being determined. Other instrumental selections include a recently discovered concerto for the unusual solo combination of oboe and cello. Do not be put off by the creepy cover art (who thought that a man in heavy mascara, lipstick, and pencil mustache would sell Vivaldi?) -- this disc is a delightful collection of curiosities, if not an essential purchase, other than for Vivaldi completists, who are surely already "subscribed" to the Vivaldi Edition.

72'27"

In Brief: Resurrexi Edition

Resurrexi, Gregorian introit for Easter Day, Giovanni Vianini, director of the
Schola Gregoriana Mediolanensis, Abbazia cistercense di Chiaravalle, Milan

A most blessed Easter Day to all our readers who celebrate it.

Here is your regular Sunday selection of links to good things in Blogville and Beyond.

• Cartoonist and author Lynda Barry will present “Writing the Unthinkable,” a workshop on her creative method, at Johns Hopkins University (April 20, 5:30 pm) in the Arellano Theatre, Levering Hall, on the Homewood campus (3400 N. Charles St.) in Baltimore. A book signing will follow the talk. (from Mark Barry) [Homewood Art Workshops]


• Adrian Mann, a teenager in New Zealand with an eccentric and creative mind, has built the world's largest grand piano. [Fredösphere]


• It is so true that a bad page turner can ruin a concert, and I have seen it happen more than a few times. [Wall Street Journal]


• Tasso's Armida is a sorceress who enslaves men, turning them into animals when she tires of them. Bad boy opera director Calixto Bieto -- surprise, surprise! -- has just made the sexuality overt. The headline on Manuel Brug's review for Die Welt says it all: "16 nackte Männer in der Hölle." [Out West Arts]


• The program of the 2009 Proms has been announced. [Musical Criticism]


• Can't say we didn't see this coming. The area's newest orchestra, the D.C. Philharmonic, did not have enough money to pay musicians for its upcoming debut concerts at Strathmore. Some payment checks reportedly bounced, and now the concerts have been canceled. [Clef Notes]


• Michael Gordon, of Bang on a Can fame, is a 2009 Guggenheim Fellow. [Guggenheim Foundation]


• Oh, to make a trip to Brussels to see the production of Ligeti's Le Grand Macabre. George Loomis reports. [New York Times]

Ionarts at Large: Falla, Bartók and Tan Dun—Lang Lang enriched

Bartók, Dance Suite Sz.77 et al., Boulez, CSO Deutsche Grammophon Available on Amazon.com Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.de Available on Amazon.fr

Tan Dun, Ghost Opera, Kronos Quartet Nonesuch Available on Amazon.com Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.de Available on Amazon.fr

Tan Dun et al., Pipa Concerto..., Bashmet / Moscow Soloists / Wu Man Onyx Available on Amazon.com Available on Amazon.co.uk Available on Amazon.de Available on Amazon.fr

Manuel de Falla’s Danza Ritual de Fuego, exceedingly well played by the Munich Philharmonic under the baton of Tan Dun (April 2^nd – 4^th), is a charming little fire cracker from this composer who nearly wrote himself into one-hit-wonder status with that work.

Before the Spaniard was on the program, it was Bartók’s turn. Simplistically speaking, you trade in melody for compelling rhythm with the Hungarian master—and, assuming you are receptive to that, you feel enriched by it. That’s true for most of his major orchestral pieces, although in the Dance Suite for Orchestra Sz.77 the equation doesn’t work out for me. The moments of lyricism amid a hectic, craggy landscape of various ethically flavored dance rhythms, with brief, disoriented outbursts, strikes me as more random than well integrated. Barring greater exposure to the work, it can easily make the impression of bits and pieces plugged from the scores of several movies, filmed on original locations.

Tan Dun’s own music, incidentally, makes a not dissimilar impression. The Pipa Concerto—for that Chinese zither that looks half like a lute and sounded like a metallic banjo whenever pipa virtuoso Shao Rong strummed the amplified instrument vigorously—is heavily based on his 1999 “Ghost Opera” for String Quartet and Pipa (which remains my favorite Tan Dun work). But the mix of western orchestra and sounds that, for western ears, embody the very stereotype of Chinese music is responsible for the very brew that made his opera “The First Emperor” interesting for half an hour and unbearable thereafter. The tried and culturally correct “East-meets-West” concept sounds awfully tired nowadays and third rate Puccini interrupted by collective “Yao Yao” grunts from the orchestra musicians just isn’t musically uplifting.

That grunting—and the players’ foot-stomping—caused the typical (unintended) merriment in the audience. While those moments don’t tempt me to resort to superficially amused or discomfited laughter, they make me cringe with vicarious embarrassment, teeth gnashing. (It’s one thing for four autonomous string quartet players to do it, another matter when an orchestra is coerced into doing that sort of stuff so far removed from their real expertise.) The actual moment of wit came when Tan Dun employs the sound of an orchestra tuning before he hurls himself into an unambiguously gorgeous Adagio where the orchestra finally plays music from its realm: a cantilena that has romanticized Bach at its base and Chinese spices for color.

The engrossing Pipa mastery of a player like Shao Rong would be much better served in a concert and venue specifically chosen for it. Folded into a still born orchestral chimera, the genuinely interesting pipa elements are robbed of their context and come across as no more authentically Chinese than spring rolls at McDonalds.

The novelty of the concerto, to those who heard it for the first time, may have been more interesting than the recycled conventionalism of Tan Dun’s Piano Concerto. True, it sounds like a “Soundtrack to a movie unscreened”, the thematic material is risibly short and its development haphazard, but it offers dreamy pleasantness (Lento) married to overt tempestuousness (Allegro Vivace) showing that orchestral exclamations and shouts are not necessary to create color and exoticisms. Brass squeaks enriched by wooden percussion and Nibelungen-worthy ambos hammering (Taiko drums, actually) all appear; strings and piano solo part are treated no differently to Ravel or Poulenc. It’s a shallow joyride, shamelessly romantic in the gong-heavy slow movement which is a Classic FM suitable representation of “Water” (=strings). That element and “Fire”, from the first movement, are combined in the third, where the tinkling of piano, piccolo solo, plodding piano clusters, and evocations of the pipa by the strings suggest, once more, Ravel’s piano concertos. It takes some time to find its natural conclusion which it does when Lang Lang, the soloist on duty, finishes with —literally—fist-banging chords and elbow-dragging arpeggios: conceits that the audience variously found an exciting fancy or infuriating mockery.

Masur Shines in Brahms with NSO

Kurt Masur (b. 1927), conductor

The last time Kurt Masur appeared at a podium in Washington, it was as part of his final tour before stepping down as music director of the Orchestre National de France. That was one year ago, and the visible effects of Masur's worsening health problems (he is now in his 80s) -- shuffling gate, shaking hands -- caused me to wonder if it would be his final appearance in Washington. Those problems are still in evidence, but happily Masur proved me wrong, joining the National Symphony Orchestra as guest conductor on Friday night in an all-Brahms program. Brahms is one of the composers most clearly under the hands of Masur, the ultimate German Kapellmeister who cut his teeth in Dresden, East Berlin, and Leipzig. He opened this program with a sonorous, easy-riding performance of the Variations on the Choral St. Antoni (a catchy tune that can not be reliably attributed to Haydn as it once was), op. 56a, the orchestrated version of a piece originally for piano.

Brahms Requiem: C. Oelze, G. Finley, Orchestre des Champs-Élysées, P. Herreweghe A. Auger, R. Stilwell, Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, R. Shaw

It is the first evidence of Brahms as an innovative orchestrator, the beginnings of a somber, dark-oriented style that is now inseparably connected with his name. Masur's success in this performance, led without a score, began with his choice of tempo in the theme, a gentle pace that allowed a bouncy emphasis on the low horns and contrabassoon. The sense of ensemble was clear and focused, and the music was allowed to unfold without any real manipulation, including at the end of sections. Widely varied colors and textures, as well as pleasing dynamic contours, created an individual character for each variation, sunny in the third, autumnal in the minor fourth, percolating in the fifth, naive in the seventh. The horns played with gusto and savvy, and the new principal oboe continued to impress with a smooth, controlled tone.

The second half was (coincidentally) an anniversary performance of the choral masterwork Ein deutsches Requiem, op. 45, premiered (for the second time, with six of the seven movements Brahms eventually composed) on April 10, 1868 (by another coincidence, when it was also Good Friday), in Bremen. People generally either love or hate the music of Brahms, and indeed more than one friend (including professional choir singers) reacted to the offer to be my guest at this concert with a roll of the eyes. What made this performance so pleasing to my ears was, once again, incisive conducting from Masur, with crisp, unexpected tempos, often on the fast side (like the imposing death march of Denn alles Fleisch), cutting away the fat heard so often in soupy renditions like that of Robert Shaw (on which many American choral singers, myself included, are nursed). Masur often had to be insistent, in fact, to keep the amassed voices of the Master Chorale of Washington, in its penultimate performances before disbanding because of lack of funds, in line with his surging beat.

Other Reviews: Philip Kennicott, In a Requiem Played Like This, the Dead Have It Easy (Washington Post, April 10)

In general, the Master Chorale sang with clear diction and a solid, well-tuned and -balanced sound in full textures. As observed in their last concert the sound of individual sections can be thin and under-supported, and there were similar exposed moments here. The German diction was clear and mostly unified, even a little close to exaggerated at times. The most disappointing part of the performance, aside from some ugly sounds from the trumpets and some sour intonation in the flutes and piccolo, was the vocal soloists. Bass-baritone John Relyea wielded his considerable volume and resonance like a bludgeon, which made the loudest moments, powering over the chorus, exciting but leaving one wishing for some variation in tone. By contrast, soprano Heidi Grant Murphy could barely be heard in the fifth movement, added by Brahms after the death of his beloved mother, with her voice, all swallowed and discolored by a billy-goat vibrato, covered even by soft strings. The high point of the evening was my favorite movement, the sixth (Denn wir haben hie keine bleibende Statt), with the opening section set by Masur in a deliberate, almost plodding tempo. That choice provided a greater contrast with the fast sections after the sounding of the trumpet, when the joy of the elect at the downfall of Death approached a wild-eyed blood lust, setting up an equally fast closing fugue.

This concert will be repeated this evening (April 11, 8 pm). Next week's concerts by the National Symphony Orchestra will feature Leonidas Kavakos playing two of the big Romantic violin concertos, by Mendelssohn (April 16 and 18) and Tchaikovsky (April 17). Iván Fischer will conduct, and the program will also include Tchaikovsky's fifth symphony and a new work by Colorado composer Daniel Kellogg.

Who for Whom? Marc-André Hamelin Pinch-Hits

Marc-André Hamelin: In a State of Jazz (Antheil, Gulda, Kapustin, Weissenberg) Haydn, Piano Sonatas Schumann, Fantasy in C (inter alia)

No one was very happy about the cancellation that affected the recital on Wednesday night at Strathmore -- not Krystian Zimerman whose sinus infection caused him to cancel, or Washington Performing Arts Society who had to scramble to find a replacement, or the audience, many of whom apparently received the news in advance and decided to stay home. Perhaps it was only your reviewer, who regretted another chance to hear Zimerman, to be sure, but who equally relished the chance to hear Canadian pianist Marc-André Hamelin. After all, Hamelin has not played in Washington since a 2004 recital at the National Gallery of Art, although Jens reviewed him in 2005 in New York. Fortunately, for listeners around the world Hamelin has created an extensive series of recordings, focusing especially on modern composers, some more known (Ives, Godowsky) and others less so (Alkan). As far as substitutions go, it was as near a luxury replacement as one could reasonably hope.

Hamelin's calling card is music of fiendish technical challenges, which was not really a part of this program, presumably because of the lack of preparation time. Instead, this was a game of subtlety and restraint, beginning with a Haydn sonata (no. 32, B minor, Hob. XVI:32) most noteworthy for its delicate, understated touch, contoured lines, and clear fingerwork. Those who have accused Hamelin's Haydn set of being intemperate would have approved of the gentleness of this performance, with the Steinway in the first movement scaled down to pianoforte sound, just with booming fortes. The second movement was lightly pedaled, with a clean, active minor section, and the contrapuntal last movement, with its obsessive, repeated-note subject was brisk, but not manic. The same feeling of careful temperance came through in the Fauré pairing that opened the second half, especially in the fleeting, transparent sound of the Nocturne No. 6 (op. 63). The Barcarolle No. 3 (op. 42) was vivified by wild roulades, often rolling like waves around a skilfully voiced inner melody.

Schumann's Fantasie in C Major (op. 17) is fresh in my ears from Maurizio Pollini's recital in October, and it was originally on Yaron Kohlberg's program last weekend, replaced by the Davidsbündlertänze. Hamelin, like Pollini, emphasized the Eusebius parts of the work, showing the introverted, moony side of the composer's personality (the end of the first movement was so lost in musing that it almost seemed to be whispered inside the listener's head), with a free, plastic sense of rubato and, once again, crystal-clear voicings, with evanescent non-melodic lines meaning that the melody could be quite clear without being hammered. Where Pollini's second movement showed the martial insistence on dotted rhythms as a sort of empty-headed rigor, Hamelin's performance had a wide-open sense of bombast without being so relentless, with even the loudest sections voiced with care.

Other Reviews: Philip Kennicott, Boo Who? Hamelin Ably Fills In At WPAS (Washington Post, April 10)

The closing set of Debussy preludes, all from the second book, showcased Hamelin's gifts as a colorist, with shimmering pastel trills, so soft, in «Les Fées sont d'exquises danseuses»; a suave, wind-blown Bruyères; and a lampooned Général Lavine - eccentric, quixotic but not vulgar. After an eerie La terrasse des audiences du clair de lune, full of hushed magic, Hamelin made child's play of the crossed-hand moto perpetuo toccata of Les tierces alternées and highlighted a booming section in the middle of a lacy but bright Feux d'artifices. Hamelin indulged his interest in jazz in two encores, Alexis Weissenberg's arrangement of the Charles Trenet song En Avril à Paris (recorded on Hamelin's recent disc of jazz arrangements) and Hamelin's own jazzy, Debussy-inflected nocturne from 2007. If nothing else, this excellent recital allows Marc-André Hamelin to sneak into the WPAS series by the back door, since in his apologetic introduction WPAS president Neale Perl acknowledged that they are possibly the last concert organizer in the United States to feature a recital by Hamelin. Because some of the senior pianists regularly featured by WPAS, like Murray Perahia, Richard Goode, or Maurizio Pollini, will not be performing forever, we can hope that Hamelin will come back to Washington more frequently in the future.

The last major piano recital sponsored by WPAS this season will feature Louis Lortie, playing his rendition of the complete Chopin Études (May 2, 4 pm), in the Kennedy Center Concert Hall.