Goerne and Brendel in Die Winterreise

Frequently, there are advantages to live recordings: the added frisson of playing before a real audience can add that extra 10% over even a good studio recording, with its many re-takes. The main disadvantage of live recordings is audience noise: clapping, coughing, mobile phone sounds, whatever. I settled back to listen to Matthias Goerne and Alfred Brendel in Schubert's Die Winterreise song cycle. For some inexplicable reason, the work started with audience applause — not even on a separate track. So every time you wished to enter the world of Die Winterreise, you had to have a burst of audience applause to set the atmosphere. Even worse: the sound engineers had miscalculated the dynamics. In order to hear the recorded pianissimos, you had to turn the volume up. When the next song featured a fortissimo, you were blasted out of your socks. After the fourth or fifth song in the cycle, I gave up. The CD is on the pile destined for a charity shop.

Emmanuelle Haïm in Bach and Handel

In his interesting study of J.S. Bach and his music, Music in the Castle of Heaven, John Eliot Gardiner makes an interesting case for respecting the dance-like rhythms in Bach's music, even the church music such as the cantatas. He frowns at the tendency in much of northern Europe to imbue Bach's church music with a Protestant reverent piousness. Gardiner would approve of the recording of Bach's Magnificat directed by the ever-talented Emmanuelle Haïm with her Concert D'Astrée. Under Haïm's direction, the music is alive, just as Bach surely intended in this work where he appears to be showing off his prodigious talents. I seem to have nine different recordings of the Magnificat, about the only Bach work apart from the Mass in B minor that uses the Latin language. I love Haïm's recording, and even love the singing of Philippe Jaroussky, the counter-tenor for whom I always make an exception.

On the same CD is one of the few works by Handel in the Latin language, the Dixit Dominus dating from 1707 when Handel was just 22 years old and living in Rome. The work is a veritable tour de force, with the young Handel showing off his prodigious talents. On this CD, Bach and Handel go head-to-head; Bach's music takes just over 25 minutes, Handel's 30 minutes (both as directed by Haïm). Predictably, neither composer is the outright winner, since their music is always as different as chalk and cheese. So ironic that despite being born only six weeks apart in the same region of Germany, the two never met. Anyway, some 300 years later, the music of both composers is still going strong. Oddly enough, I have only one other recording of Dixit Dominus and that is also French, conducted by Marc Minkowski. But Ms Haïm is going to be a hard act to follow, since her performance is a tour de force of Handel's tour de force. And a recording of both works that features Natalie Dessay, Philippe Jaroussky and Laurent Naouri (amongst others) really assembles a lot of first-class talent. The recording was made in Paris in 2006 and is of excellent quality. Ms Haïm, of whom I almost always approve highly, is no follower of the north European pious approach to the church music of Bach, Handel or Vivaldi. I like her L'Orfeo (Monteverdi), Messiah (Handel), La Resurrezione (Handel) and Dido and Aeneas (Purcell) plus many of her other Handel recordings.

Handel Opera Duets

Handel's operas and oratorios are a goldmine of good tunes and memorable arias. Wandering through my collection of recordings this evening, happy chance saw me taking out a CD of operatic duets from Handel's operas, recorded 15 years ago by Patrizia Ciofi (soprano) and Joyce DiDonato (mezzo). The late Alan Curtis directs Il Complesso Barocco, and Virgin turns out a first-class recording. Which is really just what you need for Handel: first-class singers, a first-class band, expert direction, and a well-balanced recording. The music does the rest.

The two singers are superb, and a mezzo-soprano such as DiDonato spares us the embarrassment of a counter-tenor or a castrato. 73 minutes of pure gold. Handel never fails.

Christian Gerhaher sings Schubert's Die Winterreise

Back in the 1950s when I was a teenager, I assiduously copied out and learned the texts of the twenty-four songs that comprise Schubert's Die Winterreise; all of which stood me in good stead for the rest of my life, since I can now sit back and listen to the songs without having recourse to the texts or translations.

It is difficult to imagine what Schubert's small audience back in 1828 would have made of this cycle of songs, where pessimism rules, and where the harmonies of the songs often modulate every few bars (the modulations of Die Krähe always fascinated me). I knew this greatest of all song cycles from my early LPs of Hans Hotter (three LP sides, with the fourth side blank). I then, inevitably, went on to Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau; since then, there have been many candidates for favourite version, the latest being Jonas Kaufman (tenor). This evening it was back to Christian Gerhaher (baritone) with Gerold Huber at the piano, recorded back in 2001. The pianist is excellent. Gerhaher sings with welcome emotion and really enters into the spirit of this evergreen work; Winterreise is an emotional work — with often quite violent emotions. Thanks to my teenage hard work, I can sit back and enjoy the songs and the words, greatly helped by Gerhaher's clear diction and enunciation. Gerhaher, Goerne, or Kaufman (I never took to Fischer-Dieskau)? Spoilt for choice, but I greatly enjoyed Gerhaher this evening and was completely gripped for 78 minutes.

Renaud Capuçon

Renaud Capuçon is hardly a household name, even among lovers of violin playing, yet whatever he does is pretty well always of the highest quality and stands up to all and any comparisons with other modern violinists. At 42 years old, Capuçon is hardly a wunderkind, nor is he an attractive young woman; a lot of publicity therefore passes him by. Like the late Arthur Grumiaux (with whom he has much in common) he is a versatile musician and often heard at his very best in chamber music and duo sonatas, often in the company of his brother Gautier (cello), Frank Braley (piano) and Gérard Caussé (viola). Renaud Capuçon and his distinguished friends always seem to me to be making real chamber music: friends playing together and enjoying the music.

I like his recording of he two Brahms string sextets, and of the two Schubert piano trios, and of Schubert's Trout Quintet, and of the three Brahms piano trios (with Nicholas Angelich). Capuçon has recorded most things (though I cannot find him in my collection playing Mozart, Paganini, or Bach). His Beethoven and Brahms concertos are very fine, as is his Brahms double concerto (with Gautier). I also admire his set of the complete Beethoven violin and piano sonatas (with Frank Braley). The two Brahms string sextets were recorded live, and here the clarity of the ensemble, the fine balance, and the atmosphere of six friends playing together, makes this Brahms to live with. There are other violinists at the same level as Capuçon — James Ehnes, for example — but Renaud Capuçon always has that special “Arthur Grumiaux” edge to his playing. And like Grumiaux (and Adolf Busch) he really excels in chamber music.

The Pavel Haas Quartet, and Schubert's String Quintet

There are probably only a few hundred musical works at the very top of the tree. We have to come up with a better term for great music other than the somewhat ambiguous classical music. Perhaps eternal music, or evergreen music, or ever-lasting music. Schubert's string quintet in C major, D 956, was among the works Schubert finished in the last few weeks of his life. He never heard it played, nor saw it in print. Listening to it 190 years after it was written, it still sounds as fresh and as alive as music written recently. I can recall a surprising number of people over the years who have nominated the adagio of the string quintet as being music they would choose to die to. It is music I have known and loved for most of my lifetime; but then, I really love Schubert's music, especially the late piano and chamber works.

I have several recordings of the quintet, including the famous 1951 one with Casals, Tortelier, Isaac Stern, et al, and the 1952 recording by the Amadeus Quartet and William Pleeth, the recording I grew up with. But now the only recording I want to listen to is the 2013 version with the Pavel Haas Quartet (with Danjulo Ishizaka, cello). Everything that is in Schubert's last chamber work comes over with the Pavel Haas team. The playing is all about Schubert, and not about lovely instruments or lovely playing. The recording and balance are excellent (Supraphon) as is the coupling (the Death and the Maiden Quartet D 810). Three gold stars. The Pavel Haas is a wonderful string quartet.

Vasily Petrenko conducts in Vienna

In the old days, I would couple a radio tuner to a tape cassette recorder via an amplifier and record music off-air. The results were ... adequate. I was again surprised listening (on the web) to a concert given on 11^th March in the  Konzerthaus Großer Saal in Vienna where Vasily Petrenko — a conductor for whom I have an enormous respect — was conducting the Vienna Symphony Orchestra. The sound in Beethoven' violin concerto, and in Rimsky-Korsakov's evergreen Scheherazade, was astonishingly excellent; well-balanced and well recorded. My only gripe was that the engineers had turned up the soloist's microphone in the Beethoven concerto when it came to the cadenzas, so we suddenly heard a sound out of all proportion to what had gone before, or what followed.

Petrenko is a known quantity in Russian music (and in Elgar) so I was not surprised to enjoy and admire the performance of Scheherazade. I have never heard Petrenko in Beethoven, and was pleased at the solid and positive support he gave to the solo violin. In my view, the Beethoven violin concerto needs a positive contribution from the orchestra, in order to contrast with the lyrical solo violin.

The soloist in the Beethoven concerto was 22 year old Emmanuel Tjeknavorian, born in Vienna. He came over here as a gentle soul, with expert lyrical playing, and the result was an admirable contrast between the strong orchestra and the filigree arabesques of the solo violin. An enjoyable performance. Tjeknavorian came up with cadenzas I had never heard before; the first movement cadenza was fine, the second movement one far less so, and the one in the finale OK. There are many fine cadenzas written for the Beethoven concerto, but every violinist nowadays seems to find a need to come up with something new; new is not always better than old.

Masaaki Suzuki and Bach Cantatas

I have over 30 Bach cantatas in the series conducted by Masaaki Suzuki with his Bach Collegium Japan. Mr Suzuki is not a director with a big ego. Tempi are uncontroversial. The small choir sounds (to me) just the right size for Bach's many choral passages and is, in any case, preferable to the one-per-part brigade. The instrumental band plays well, and is expertly balanced. The recordings, over several decades now, are either satisfactory, or excellent. The soloists are usually from a small pool of German, Flemish, British and Dutch. Stalwarts over the years have been Peter Kooij (bass), Gerd Türk (tenor), Hanna Blazikova (soprano), Robin Blaze (counter-tenor), and Carolyn Sampson (soprano). The Japanese solo singers in the earliest recordings were later abandoned.

Inevitably, a few cantatas are routine (but even routine Bach is always well worth listening to). Many give evidence of special care, no doubt for special occasions. There are many jewels such as BWV 21 “Ich hatte viel Bekümmernis”. Whenever I want to listen to something, but cannot decide what, I know I'll be happy with a couple of Bach cantatas. For the Suzuki set, all praise also to the Swedish BIS company, that has kept the faith with Suzuki and Bach over many decades (unlike DG that chickened out of the John Eliot Gardiner series, presumably, as the Americans would say, because the recordings “did not make the numbers”). Bach would have said: “There are more important things than numbers, where my music is concerned”.

No criticisms? Well, I am not keen on counter-tenors. I like my sopranos, altos and contraltos to be women, just as I like my tenors, baritones and basses to be men. Mr Suzuki and I disagree on this. On the face of it, Kobe in western Japan is an unlikely source for top-notch Bach. All praise to Masaaki Suzuki for enriching our access to well-performed Bach cantatas. These 30 or so cantatas are ones I shall always keep to hand, counter-tenors notwithstanding. I seem to have around 50 Bach cantatas directed by Philippe Herreweghe, so that will be a new report sometime in the future.

Jean Sibelius

On my return home after a spell in hospital, I have embarked on a mini- Sibelius festival. Which is a bit odd, since Jean Sibelius has rarely featured in my listening repertoire for many years (apart from the violin concerto), and equally odd in that my listening had recently moved away from orchestral music in favour of chamber music, and solo instruments. Whatever: it's wall to wall Sibelius at the moment, with all seven symphonies receiving a well-deserved airing. The second, fifth, sixth and seventh symphonies are familiar fare, the other three less so. My current listening is confined to LSO Live recordings made by Colin Davis more than a decade or so ago. The LSO knows the music backwards, the recorded sound is not bad at all, and Davis's conducting is right for Sibelius (even if we have him singing along with the orchestra in the fifth symphony).

In England, Thomas Beecham espoused the cause of Sibelius early on; in the 1950s and 60s, Herbert von Karajan continued the cause, somewhat unusually for a German; Sibelius was popular in Scandinavia, in Russia and in Britain – perhaps also in America – but had made little impact in Germany, and pretty well none at all in France or Italy. Sibelius's music is music of the North, with icy winds and freezing frost. The second and fifth symphonies have become almost popular (a Frenchman, Pierre Monteux, made a very fine recording of the second symphony back in 1958, again with the LSO). I grew up in my distant teens with the sixth and seventh symphonies (Philharmonia under von Karajan) and still have a soft spot for these two; like a long draft of pure, cool, spring water. The earlier Sibelius symphonies still show his debt to Tchaikovsky and the Russians; the later symphonies are pure Nordic Sibelius. Many Beecham Sibelius recordings are still available, as are the recordings made by von Karajan, first with the Philharmonia, then with the Berlin Philharmonic — I prefer the earlier Philharmonia recordings, where von Karajan was less obsessed with pure, silky sound, and the Philharmonia was at its peak in the 1950s with Klemperer and von Karajan in and out of the recording studios and concert halls, all presided over by Walter Legge. I even have a recording conducted by Furtwängler of En Saga (1943, Berlin Philharmonic) and, in the same year, he conducted Georg Kulenkampff in the violin concerto. Praga Digital is currently re-issuing re-vamped transfers of the Karajan-Philharmonia symphonies five, six, and seven. I have my name down.

And for the violin concerto? I have 56 different recordings, the classics being the Heifetz and the Neveu recordings from earlier in the last century. Pretty well every violinist that ever drew a bow has recorded the work, which has joined the Mendelssohn and Tchaikovsky concertos at the top of the A-list. My modern choice would probably be one of the two recordings with Lisa Batiashvili playing. Or maybe Vadim Repin (I have no less than six different recordings of Repin playing this work).

Sibelius avoided the gigantism and long-windedness that characterised much of the music at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth; Wagner, Bruckner, Mahler and Elgar all wrote music that, arguably, often goes on just too long. Most of Sibelius's symphonies come in comfortably at around 30 minutes each; a good listening span. In self-imposed musical exile after his seventh symphony, he shunned the sterile cul-de-sac of the serialists such as Schönberg, Berg and their acolytes, fortunately for his music and his future reputation. My mini- Sibelius festival over, I'll nevertheless not re-shelve the CDs but will keep them by me. I value all seven Sibelius symphonies, even the fourth that proves that the Russians do not have a monopoly on musical pessimism and gloom.

Sandrine Piau in Handel

Yesterday, the temperature where I live was plus 14 degrees. Today it is minus 2. I struggled to find music that would calm my frustration, and tried many options. At last, by trial and error, I found just the right 60 minutes; the honeyed soprano voice of Sandrine Piau singing Handel excerpts (mainly in English). With the title “Between Heaven and Earth” the CD also features the Accademia Bizantina directed by Stefano Montanari. From first note to last, it is a ray of sunshine, with Piau's wonderful singing complementing Handel's inventive music, and the highly talented band filling in the rest. Montanari is first violin, conductor and musical director and his enthusiastic Italians make a pleasant change from the often somewhat dour North Europeans in this music. A CD I shall never regret having bought.

This blog is called Musicke & Food; there is, indeed, a relationship between the two, in that the "right" music for the session in hand can vary enormously, just as the "right" food can be unpredictable. A fridge full of fish; I yearn for meat. A fridge full of meat; I yearn for fish. A pile of string quartets; I yearn for the symphonies of Sibelius. However, Ms Piau and Georg Frederike Händel filled the bill this evening. Danke, merci ... et grazie. And a bowl of soupe de poissons from Brittany fulfilled the food part. Merci.

The Naxos Company, and Nazrin Rashidova

The Naxos company started in 1987 in Hong Kong at the inspiration of Klaus Heymann, a German resident in Hong Kong. Later, his Japanese wife, Takako Nishizaki, a violinist, also took part in the company (and was probably one reason why Naxos has always had a prominent violin repertoire). For the past 31 years, during which most rivals and competitors have disappeared as organised recording companies, Naxos has continued its policy of low prices, repertoire that avoids the over-recorded, artists and instrumental groups that are not on the normal All Star circuit, and never (or rarely) deleting any issues. Naxos explores the 80 percent of the classical music repertoire that the big commercial enterprises rarely touch, and it often achieves excellent artistic results with its ranks of “B list” artists and orchestras. In classical music, being a well-known name is not always a guarantee of first-rate quality (and we all remember the revelation that Britain's Royal Philharmonic Orchestra was caught out giving concerts simultaneously in two different cities; the RPO name had become a mere franchise operation).

The latest release from Naxos typifies the company, with Nazrin Rashidova playing Volume 2 of her planned traversal of the 24 études-caprices opus 64 by Emile Sauret (all six of the new études on the CD are labelled as “world première recordings”.) Music of a specialist interest maybe, but well worth recording and listening to. For this second volume Rashidova puts aside her modern British violin that sounded so well in Volume 1 and plays on a Stradivarius from 1685. The Strad also sounds well, with a good tone on the lower strings. There is some wonderful violin playing on this CD. In the liner notes, Rashidova writes extensively about the quality of the "Sauret" Strad. Finally, as usual with the good-quality Naxos, liner notes (by Rashidova) are excellent and, although Rashidova is a fine-looking woman, the front cover quite rightly gives Emile Sauret star billing in a large typeface, with a photo of the composer dominating half of the front. A bit more class at Naxos compared with the likes of DG, Decca and Warner.

Sviatoslav Richter frustrates in Schubert

Sviatoslav Richter was no “legend”; he was a real person, and I once had a ticket to hear him at a concert near me. Unfortunately, when the great day came, I found I had mistakenly thrown away the ticket, so I never heard him live. But he was a very great and very famous pianist, with a special love for the music of Franz Schubert.

I settled down to listen to Richter in 1979 in Tokyo playing Schubert piano sonatas; B major D 575, F minor D 625, A major D 664, and A minor D 784. The pianism was wonderful. The audience was ecstatic (some applause was maintained). Three of the sonatas have slow movements marked “andante”, but Richter's concept of andante in Tokyo was more akin to molto adagio. Richter being Richter, his tempi were never based on a desire for affect, nor to please the crowd. And Richter being Richter with his superb ability to concentrate, the andantes never sagged. However, the three andantes were all so slow they often nearly stopped, and I just could not take it any more. Click on the following movements.

Russians Play Russian

The Russians are famous for composing first-class music, as well as for churning out generations of first-class musicians (especially pianists and violinists). They are not famous for their recording technology of generations ago, so I approached a disc of “Russian Treasures” recorded during the dark years of 1948 and 1957 with considerable trepidation. I was pleasantly surprised; the original tapes came from Moscow Radio (not the studios of Melodya) and the tapes were processed by the Czech company Multisonic in 1993. Even given the age of the original performances, the results made pleasant listening. Composers were all Russian: Glinka (Sestetto), Borodin (Grand Trio) and Tchaikovsky (String Sextet).

The Russians often have a bad press (especially by the paranoid Americans); sometimes deservedly, more often, not. Politics aside, the Russian artists playing Glinka, Borodin and Tchaikovsky would be hard to beat: Leonid Kogan, Elizabeta Gilels, Dmitry Tsyganov, Vasily Shirinksy, Sergei Shirinsky, Mstislav Rostropovich, Rudolf Barshai ... and others. Very much Golden Age performances of this music. I'll keep the CD to hand for re-playing whenever I need reminding there is still superb music making to be had at the touch of a button. The Russians in Russian music are still hard to beat. I am still waiting for a really good transfer of the famous 1952 recording of Tchaikovsky's opus 50 piano trio with Gilels, Kogan and Rostropovich.

Ning Feng, and Josef Suk, in Bach

When it comes to performances of music of the baroque era, and of the 18^th century, I am conscious of often being illogical and somewhat schizophrenic. I love the way Handel's operas and oratorios are played today, and find it difficult to accept the old 20^th century performing tradition before the final decades of the century. I deplore race-to-the-finish Bach, and prefer Klemperer or Richter in most of Bach's choral music. I dislike Glenn Gould's recordings of the Goldberg Variations as being too much Gould, not enough Bach, but I like Beatrice Rana's recording of the Goldbergs for the sense of a personal interaction with the music. I like my Brandenburgs played by Adolf Busch, Karl Richter or Otto Klemperer rather than Allegro Molto conducting I Barochisti di Novara.

A friend recently sent me a set of the Bach solo violin sonatas and partitas recorded in 1970 by the great Czech violinist, Josef Suk and, following a highly enthusiastic notice by one reviewer, I bought a set of the same works recorded in late 2016 by the Chinese violinist, Ning Feng. I settled down to listen to both performances, recorded some 45 years apart, with my notebook at the ready; starting with the first sonata, one after another, and ending with the third partita, one after another. From experience, ones reaction to different performances can also depend on mood and circumstances, so I was anxious to compare like with like.

Right from the start, with the first sonata, my ears and my tasting notes made it clear I was dealing with two different things: an excellent vintage red wine, versus an excellent vintage champagne. Suk is calm and relaxed. I have never taken to Bach's violin fugues; Suk ploughs through the first fugue, but I wait for the following Siciliana where I can admire Suk's double stops. When we get to Feng, it's a different world; much more subjective, more rubato and playing around with the rhythm. Feng is terrific in the fugue; his differentiation of the voices makes it sound as if a string quartet is playing the piece. His Siciliana is also excellent, with lovely playing of the parts, and Feng's finale is more exciting than that of Suk.

The first partita is the most difficult of the six unaccompanied works to bring off. It has ten movements (five dances, and five doubles – variations at double speed). Suk plays a really excellent Sarabande, with lovely part playing, but his approach to most movements comes over as a bit ponderous, with the opening Allemanda going on for ever, and the doubles do not fizz. Feng's Sarabande shows him trying a bit too hard; some of Suk's calm and simplicity would not have come amiss. However, in the doubles, Feng really does fizz – the double of the Corrente (marked double presto) sees smoke coming from Feng's bow, much as it did when Antje Weithaas played it on her recording.

With the second sonata, my opinions are becoming clearer. For the fugues, the Chinese is your man, with his “string quartet” approach to the different voices; the Czech sounds a bit effortful here, at times. Suk's gravitas and simplicity pay off in the slow movements where he often sings, compared with Feng who plays. Suk's finale lacks fantasy; his tempi are often measured, whereas Feng sounds more flowing.

By the end of the second partita, with its wonderful and challenging Ciaccona, and with only the third sonata and the less challenging third partita left, my personal pendulum had begun to swing towards Josef Suk and the classical, mid- 20^th century style. With Suk you get Bach, the whole Bach, and nothing but Bach. With Ning Feng, you get superb and imaginative violin playing, with highly interesting flights of fancy, but sometimes Johann Sebastian gets lost in the violinistic jamboree and you find yourself admiring Mr Feng rather than Herr Bach.

It is noticeable when it comes to the two great Russian violinists of the last century, David Oistrakh and Leonid Kogan, neither really tackled the Bach unaccompanied works on record (though Kogan did record a couple of them). Bach's unaccompanied violin works demand a certain style of playing and a certain sound. Of the violinists around the middle of the last century, Milstein, Grumiaux – and now Suk – are well worth listening to. Heifetz, in a place all by himself, is also well worth listening to. Of the modern school, I like Alina Ibragimova, Antje Weithaas – and now Ning Feng. All bring fantasy, technique and colour to these six works. Those looking for just one set by one violinist are going to be disappointed. For my desert island choice, I am going to have Heifetz, Grumiaux, Suk, Ibragimova, Weithaas ... and Feng. I like good red Burgundy. And I also like good vintage champagne.

Adieu, The Gramophone

I bought my first copy of The Gramophone magazine in 1953 (at the age of twelve). I have bought every issue since then, but I have now decided to stop. Mainly a question of age, and experience. I can usually spot interesting new recordings, or hear about them via friends. I no longer need guidance by “experts”, and too often I distrust the experts' opinions and recommendations. Too many of Gramophone's heroes and heroines are based in London, too many record for major companies, advertisers or sponsors. As soon as one reads rave reviews for Benjamin Grosvenor, Murray Perahia, Daniel Barenboim, Martha Agerich, Mitsuko Uchida, John Eliot Gardiner, et al, one says: “Yeah, well”. In addition, I have walls full of CDs that I cannot possibly listen to again during my remaining years so I really do not need yet more.

At my age, I am out of synchronisation with forte-pianos, harpsichords, violins sans vibrato, eight-part choruses sung by just eight singers, and the whole concept of “authentic”. In addition, I do not regard those who compose music post mid- twentieth century as being well worth investigation or investment, come what may; there is quite enough first-class music pre-1965 that is pretty well unknown and rarely played to occupy several lifetimes. And to cap it all, I am not in favour of dumbing-down classical music performances and artists in an attempt to enter the lucrative market of pop and entertainment. That's all about money, not art.

So, regretfully, I shall part company with The Gramophone after around 65 years. I'll miss it.

Clara Haskil in 1953

A piano recital from 65 years ago in Ludwigsburg by Clara Haskil reminds us what we are missing all too often these days. The 75 minute programme features music by Bach, Scarlatti, Schumann, Debussy and Ravel. All short pieces, except for Beethoven's last piano sonata, Opus 111. An infinite variety of music over a couple of centuries, superbly played. The 65 year old sound comes over extremely well in SWR's re-mastering and transfers.

The performance of Beethoven's Opus 111 is more subdued than those to which we are accustomed. There is a wrong note during the start, to remind us these are unedited taped recordings. The theme of the Arietta is played with a beautiful simplicity; perhaps a primary example of art concealing art. Clara Haskil was no barn-stormer, and maybe she is slightly less impressive in late Beethoven than in her much-favoured other masters of the classical era. In any case, we do not long to hear her in Rachmaninov's third piano concerto. Many thanks to SWR for exhuming this recital.

Teodor Currentzis and Tchaikovsky's Pathétique

I grew up with Tchaikovsky's Pathétique symphony played by Toscanini (NBC Orchestra), Cantelli (Philharmonia) and Furtwängler (Berlin Philharmonic) later followed by Mravinsky (Leningrad Orchestra) and Mikhael Pletnev (Russian National Orchestra). I still have all of these, plus a few others, so I really did not need yet another Pathétique. However, it is one of my favourite orchestral works, so I launched out and bought yet another version: Teodor Currentzis and the MusicAeterna orchestra.

Teodor Currentzis (half Greek, half Russian) is a highly interventionist conductor. The orchestra (from Perm in Siberia) confirms my often stated belief that a “second tier” orchestra playing repertoire familiar to it will often play its heart out, whereas a world-famous orchestra under a guest conductor will often go through the motions. Russian orchestras in core Russian repertoire, like German or Austrian orchestras in the core German repertoire, French orchestras in the core French repertoire, or English orchestras in the core English repertoire, almost always add that extra 10% of commitment and authenticity.

This is a Pathétique with a difference; somewhat wild, with exaggerated pauses and wide dynamics. I enjoyed it (as is often the case when one listens to musicians playing their hearts out in repertoire they know and love). However, Tchaikovsky's Pathétique is too good a symphony to be listened to too often in a distorted performance. The music of composers such as Tchaikovsky, Elgar, Mahler and Rachmaninov is already so full of Angst and insecurity that it really does not need additional dollops. I felt the same way about Nemanja Radulovic's performance of Tchaikovsky's violin concerto, despite the magnificent violin playing. For the Pathétique, maybe I should buy the recording by Vasily Petrenko; but that is on a double CD with the third and fourth symphonies that I do not want. Till then, it's back to the ancient Mravinsky recordings, plus the more recent Pletnev or Valery Gergiev.

An Afternoon of Saint-Saëns, and Chausson

A mini festival of French music this afternoon, with Camille Saint-Saëns and Ernest Chausson. Monsieur Saint-Saëns contributed his Introduction & Rondo Capriccioso, plus his third violin concerto, plus his Havanaise opus 83. Monsieur Chausson contributed his Poème. All these works were Heifetz specialities, of course (apart from the Saint-Saëns violin concertos that Heifetz never recorded, for reasons I cannot understand).

Notwithstanding the magnificent Jascha Heifetz in these works, I listened to them played by Arthur Grumiaux, who was ill-served by the Philips recording team in the 1950s, but the team made up for it in the 1960s. I grew up with the various Heifetz recordings but, somewhat to my surprise, I found myself admiring Grumiaux even more. In terms of violin playing, both the Russian and the Belgian are supreme here. It is just that Grumiaux seems to play the Franco-Belgian repertoire with a natural accent, whereas Heifetz's accent is acquired and studied, rather than natural. Difficult to explain, like so much in music when it comes to words. But listening to the violin's entrance in the Chausson as played by Heifetz, my reaction is: “Wow, what superb playing!” When Grumiaux makes his entrance (accompanied by the Lamoureux Orchestra in 1966), the reaction is: “Wow, what superb music!”

Finishing up with a dessert of Ravel's ubiquitous Tzigane, I found myself profoundly admiring Grumiaux's playing (1966). Many players, including Patricia Kopatchinskaja, ham up the gypsy element until it becomes almost a caricature. With Grumiaux, Tzigane sounds like a piece of exotic music by Maurice Ravel, much as his Shéhérazade is a piece of exotic Oriental music.