Search NZSO

News and Media

2009 Discography

 JANACEK: Orchestral Suites from the Operas

Peter Breiner, music director of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, has done us a service in arranging and recording a series of suites from the operas of Czech composer Leoš Janáček (1854–1928), with the object of making some of the composer’s most vibrant music accessible to a wider public outside the opera house. To judge from what I hear in these suites from Jenůfa and The Excursions of Mr. Brouček, Breiner has succeeded admirably as both arranger and conductor. (Even as we speak, a second volume of Janáček suites, consisting of Kátya Kabanová and The Makropoulos Affair, has been released by Naxos. [8.570556])

…Symphonic players must really love Janáček. No matter what your instrument, he doesn’t keep you sawing away in the background on some boring accompaniment for long; sooner or later, you will have your moment in the sun. In particular, his distinctive writing for the brass is highly imaginative and is often used for expressive purposes. In Jenůfa, a dark, troubled tale of passion and jealousy in which, among other things, the heroine’s love child is drowned in a mill race by her envious stepmother, the sounds of the brass are often blurred as in a miasma, psychologically reflecting the internal turmoil of the characters. The mill itself is characterized by the ceaseless tapping of the xylophone, to be replaced later by the smoother, undulating sound of the harp, when the sinister crisis has been resolved and Jenůfa has at last found happiness.

The Excursions of Mr. Brouček is an opera in a different mood, based on a fictional Czech hero who rivals Baron Münchhausen as a shameless liar. As befits a drunken hero who lives in a wine vat and is at one point sentenced to die in a beer barrel, the music associated with Brouček is highly colored. In the opening movement of the suite, our hero’s name, Matěj Brouček, is blared out for us by the horns and trumpets. When one of his imaginary “excursions” takes him to the moon, we hear mystic strings and harp glissandi. In the last excursion, when Brouček finds himself in 15th century Prague, the savior of his country against the onslaughts of the Austrian Emperor, the scoring becomes more robust as Janáček invokes the same Hussite chorale that Smetana had previously used in Ma Vlast (My Homeland), and for much the same nationalistic purpose.

Phil Muse, Sequenza21.com, 17 May 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Peter Breiner has taken some highlights from these operas and arranged them to work as orchestral concert suites, somewhat like Stokowski’s treatment of Wagner. It’s a laudable endeavour and the result is pleasing and never less than interesting…In Jenůfa Breiner sticks broadly to Janáček’s orchestral textures with the occasional embellishment, such as a solo trumpet to sing Jenůfa’s lines or a cor anglais for the Kostelnička’s…I enjoyed Brouček more as a distinct work, perhaps because I don’t know the opera. It opens with a jovial depiction of Prague and of Brouček himself, before much more delicate orchestration underlines the change of location to the Moon in the second movement. The atmosphere of the spectral strings and glockenspiel (or is it a celesta?) contrasts with the lovely romantic swell which occurs at 5:45, and I was reminded a little of middle-period Mahler. The third movement dances are all good fun, by turns lithe and swaggering, though the patriotic celebrations of the finale feel pedestrian rather than triumphal.

Simon Thompson, MusicWeb International, 11 May 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

…here is a splendid disc. The extracts, expertly chosen by Peter Breiner, stand up reasonably well in the absence of the voices. They are nicely varied in character and pace, and are conducted by him with passion and sympathetic understanding. Recording and playing are respectable, the accompanying essay is helpful, and for a minimal outlay the music delivers treasure upon treasure.

David Fanning, Gramophone, May 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

We are used to the orchestral suites from Janáček’s operas arranged by Václav Talich and František Jílek, as well as those done by Václav Smetáček, Sir Charles Mackerras and Jaroslav Smolka. Now the Slovak composer, conductor and pianist, Peter Breiner has joined this company. A composition pupil of Alexander Moyzes, he made his mark at home with his Baroque arrangements of Beatles pieces and it was in that capacity that some of us first encountered him in Bratislava. In 1992 he moved to Toronto and has been based there ever since. In turning his hand to making his own suites from Janáček operas, he has made his own selection and structure which is very convincing and has a certain musical logic to the resulting overall composition. If you know the opera scores, you will have no difficulty in identifying your place. Breiner obtains some good and idiomatic playing from the New Zealand orchestra and I look forward to his creating as effective suites from other of Janáček’s operas.

Graham Melville-Mason, Dvořák Society Newsletter, May 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Janáček’s operas have become recognised as some of the finest of the 20th century, and his reputation is more often than not enhanced by each new production that hits the boards or the recorded catalogue…It may partially be due to differences in modern recording, ideal concert hall conditions rather than the ‘Opera house’ situation, or at the very least a recording set up which no longer has to take a variety of singers into consideration, but these suites sound more sumptuous and grand than anything I’ve heard from these pieces in the past. Janáček’s own orchestral palette in both of these operas is rich and full of fascinating colour and variety, and Breiner takes all of this on board…I like the creative and convincing way Breiner has brought sometimes disparate material together to create new movements. These arrangements and performances do however paint a rather different picture of Janáček’s operas than the one you might hope to hear in an opera production…these are fine performances and stunningly dynamic recordings, with some fine low drum rumbles and plenty of sparkle and colour in the spectrum. If you know and love the operas already this disc probably won’t further enhance your appreciation, but if you want some refreshingly new orchestral music and an alternative view on Janáček then this is a very strong contender indeed.

Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International, April 21, 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

The operas of Leos Janacek (1854-1928) are heard more frequently in the theater than ever, but he didn't write many standalone orchestral pieces. This invaluable disc—the first in a series devoted to orchestral suites from the Czech's stage works—gives even opera-resistant listeners the chance to experience the piquant melody and shimmering texture that make Janacek a one-of-a-kind composer. Although an unsettling drama on stage, "Jenufa" feels more like a bittersweet fairy tale in conductor Peter Breiner's orchestral suite —the music having that swirling, "magical" Janacek sound. "The Excursions of Mr. Broucek" is a fantastical satire, and its music evokes a surprising, luminous and, again, bittersweet world. With the New Zealand orchestra punching way above its weight, this is a disc to set on repeat.

The Star-Ledger (New Jersey), March 20, 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Janáček fans will be salivating at the prospect of a new series of suites from his operas, of which this release is billed as Volume 1…Janáček’s operatic music is so fascinatingly mobile, visceral in its emotional impact, and direct in expression that even when it consists of little more than ostinatos and tune-fragments it’s interesting to listen to on its own, and thus far we have had no suite from his first great opera, Jenůfa…[The Excursions of Mr Brouček], as we already know from the existing arrangement, contains tons of tuneful, gorgeous, continuous music, and Breiner’s 40 minutes quite successfully captures most of the highlights.

David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com, February 2009

SIBELIUS, J.: Night Ride and Sunrise / Belshazzar's Feast Suite / Kuolema

 This is one terrific disc! On the basis of this alone—and I gather from the reviews I’ve read of the first installment in his Sibelius series—Pietari Inkinen is a Sibelian of the first order. The young conductor, born in 1980, has the New Zealand Symphony playing its collective hearts out for him and the recorded sound is superb. Not only a “bargain of the month,” but a “disc of the month” at any price! For the most part, this is a collection of lesser-known works of the composer that truly deserve this kind of exposure. The one “chestnut,” Valse Triste from Kuolema, receives a sensitive performance that makes the piece sound fresh minted.

The disc begins with one of Sibelius’ greatest poems, Night Ride and Sunrise. Heretofore my favorite recording was the one by L’Orchestre de la Suisse Romande under Horst Stein on Decca. It had all the excitement that Simon Rattle’s rather tepid account with the Philharmonia—coupled with his outstanding Sibelius Fifth—on EMI lacked, but the brass playing could be a little crass at times. With Inkinen, you get the best of both worlds. The “night ride” portion is nearly as exciting as Stein’s and the “sunrise” is much more majestic. This is now my favorite version.

The remainder of the disc is not one whit inferior. The Suite from Belshazzar’s Feast demonstrates that Sibelius could write “exotic” music with the best of them, yet still maintain his unique fingerprints. His orientalism may not be as extrovert as Nielsen’s in his Aladdin suite, but with its greater subtlety makes the more lasting impression. Indeed, the second and third movements, Solitude and Night Music offer much in the way of inward beauty and are really haunting. Likewise, Pan and Echo and The Dryad are examples of the mature Sibelius’ own special brand of impressionism. The New Zealanders woodwinds in Pan and Echo are ravishing, and the rhythmic pointing is infectious. The Dryad is like a chip off the Fourth Symphony in its wonderful strangeness, and its oboe and flute solos—beginning at 1:29 and recurring throughout the work—reminded me of Janáček. The second of the Two Pieces shows Sibelius in his “Spanish” mode when its dance turns to cornets and castanets adding local color. There is a bit of that in The Dryad as well.

If I had to single out anything dispensable on the disc it would be the last two movements of Kuolema that the composer added later to his incidental music to Järnefelt’s play, which seem less inspired than the other works on the disc. No matter. The whole disc merits the highest recommendation for interpretation, performance, and sound. As usual with Naxos, the presentation and notes are very good, too.

Review by Leslie Wright, MusicWeb International, April 14, 2009
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

The pieces recorded here were among those that made Sibelius’ reputation in the early 1900s. One in particular—Valse triste, from the suite of incidental music for Kuolema (Death), a play by the composer’s brother-in-law—became a huge worldwide hit and has been popular ever since. Several of the pieces are also in dance rhythm, which points up an aspect of Sibelius’ gifts in danger of being disregarded now. It could be a surprise, too, to learn that he wrote music called Belshazzar’s Feast—again, it’s music for a play, with some sultry orientalism incorporated. The music which seems most redolent of the Sibelius we know from the symphonies and symphonic poems is Night Ride and Sunrise, a thrilling journey with those curling cantelinas and long pedals familiar from later works. The exciting thing about this collection is the touch of the young conductor, Pietari Inkinen: he has certainly got what it takes in this music and obtains playing of real quality.

Review by Robert Beale, The Manchester Evening News, February 13, 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 
Naxos has a new Sibelius treat from the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, under Pietari Inkinen. They offer stirring, crystal-clear performances of a variety of tone poems, including Night Ride and Sunrise, Kuolema, Pan and Echo, and Suite from Belshazzar's Feast in superb sound.

 

Review by Robert R. Reilly, InsideCatholic.com, January 27, 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This is, in general, the lesser known Sibelius. It is done with atmosphere and hushed tension. Night Ride is a favourite of mine. It displays so many hallmarks: that relentless yet moulded ostinato, bird song, the romantic expression of the Second Symphony and the ascetic joys of the Sixth’s string textures. It’s such a contrast with the fleet-footed Paavo Järvi on Virgin but a delight to hear every detail limned with such sturdy enchantment…The Belshazzar's Feast Suite’s Oriental Procession in a similar idiom to Nielsen’s Aladdin music and Delius’s Hassan without the latter’s morbidezza. Solitude ticks trippingly along and melts entrancingly into the tenderness of Nocturne. The final segment (Khadra's Dance) is typically polished theatre music from Sibelius—deeply pleasing, succinct and with a tangy lilt—listen to that woody bassoon. Pan and Echo is a more serious piece which seems to come from the same world as the Third Symphony. The Dryad is a bleached and wan impression with a four-square style more closely related to that of the Fourth Symphony and the eerie pieces in the much later music for The Tempest. While still over-hung by some dread there is a little more in warmth in its companion—the op. 45 Tanz-Intermezzo. This segues smoothly into the one famous piece of Sibelius here: Valse triste—lovingly done. Scene with Cranes is intense but the woodwind voicing of the Cranes seems earth-bound beside Paavo Berglund’s famous version with the Bournemouth Symphony—and yet … and yet … Inkinen draws the most atmospheric playing from the NZSO violins. The last two pieces are pleasingly on-style but plumb no depths.

A nice collection which looks to me as if it might—with a previous Inkinen NZSO disc—form part of a complete cycle of the non-symphonic Sibelius. If so it will complement Naxos’s Iceland Symphony intégrale.

Review by Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International, January 6, 2009

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Pietari  Inkinen is one of the most remarkably gifted conductors of a generation, this new release num,bered among the great Sibelius recordings. The detail and subtle colours he brings to Night ride and sunrise is magical; his Belshazzar is full of atmosphere, and you listen with refreshed ears to the familiar Valse Triste which opens Kuolema. His New Zealand Symphony, already in the orchestral premier league, respond with superb playing in a magnificent disc. A “must buy” release.

Review by David Denton, Yorkshire Post, December 5, 2008

WEBER, C.M. von: Overtures

Weber was a great tunesmith, and some of his overtures were on the same level of popularity (in the time before pervasive aural garbage) with William Tell, 1812 and the like. Polish-born and trained conductor Wit I'm sure is familiar with the tradition and style, but acquiring a 'foreign' accent in playing is not easy. The NZS players somehow do not convey the zest, lilt and swagger of these old and very central-European warhorses.

Review by Giv Cornfield, The New Recordings, cliffsclassics.com, December 19, 2008

KARLOWICZ, M.: Symphonic Poems, Vol. 2 (Wit) - Powracajace fale / Smutna opowiesc / Odwieczne piesni

While Karlowicz in his native Poland is among the more important composers of the 20th century he has been pretty much an unknown outside his country. In fact until Naxos recently released his (6) symphonic poems this reviewer had no previous knowledge of his all too brief career. Yes there were other recordings but it was something that never caught my attention. Whether by accident or suicide he died in an avalanche hiking/skiing in his favorite part of the world the Tatra Mountains at the age of 33. Months before his death he spoke of suicide due to an unrequited love but this theory has never been supported with any facts.

Written in 1904 “Returning Waves” was the first of his (6) tone poems and while it is performed in a single movement of 24+ minutes there are 5 different sections of the work. Written about a story, which takes place at the Aegean Sea, by Turgenev, it tells a cinematic tale about life, love, and death in the Wagnerian style of motifs. While one can clearly hear the influence of Tchaikovsky, Dukas, Miaskovsky, Glazunov and Richard Strauss in his writing you can also hear his very special style in this neo-romantic period piece.

With the brass making the opening statement, the first section begins yielding to the bass clarinet and strings, which set the mood of a dark and eerie piece. The bassoon offers a motif and it appears thru the entire work further enhancing the overall dreariness of the piece. It offers little or no hope and one can feel the end coming. The second section brightens up considerably with heroic horns offering a moment of happiness and serenity. Perhaps all is well after all? The third section offers a peaceful melody from the clarinet followed by strings, the sea is calm and quiet. In the fourth section one can feel the building of the swirling wind and storm approaching which ends abruptly with a return to the melody from the first section. It is dreary and the decision has been made.

If you like your music on the dark side in a minor key this is an excellent choice especially if your taste in music migrates to the cinema side from time to time. While I certainly cannot put this work in the class of a Scheherazade I’ve found something hypnotizing about it and I’ll return to it on a regular basis. An excellent symphonic poem!

Review by Film Music: The Neglected Art, November 28, 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The earliest work in this second collection of Kar?owicz’s symphonic poems, Returning Waves begins balefully on low woods, brass and strings. The fact that the composer appeared to have harboured thoughts of suicide makes the darkness of this work’s opening seem apposite. Actually the enigmatic title Returning Waves could be open to all sorts of interpretations. Richard Whitehouse writes, “[Kar?owicz] initially hinted at youthful memories being recollected in sadness, whilst just before his death he wrote in explicit terms about suicide provoked by unrequited love … but any more concrete connection between this and his own ‘intended’ suicide in the subsequent skiing accident must remain a matter of speculation.” As the symphonic poem progresses it unfolds a kaleidoscopic panorama of heroic, noble, romantically yearning and strangely mystical episodes with material reminiscent of the symphonic poems of Liszt and the music of Wagner and Richard Strauss. There is little sea evocation here. There is, on the other hand, perhaps, a little more seascape imagery implicit in A Sorrowful Tale.

Not surprisingly, given its title, there is an equally gloomy opening for A Sorrowful Tale. Richard Whitehouse reckons fateful recollection again might be at the root of it and memories of the suicide of the composer’s friend, playwright Jozafat Nowinski. Furthermore, Whitehouse suggests a link with Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde.  This animated music grows, in its climactic pages ever more menacing and stormy.

The Eternal Songs is the only Kar?owicz symphonic poem to be structured in three separate movements. No programmatic details are available—only the titles that speak of a Schopenhauer-like process of self-annihilation. Whitehouse further suggests that the Tatra Mountains could have been a further inspiration and that the music is indebted to Richard Strauss, particularly Also Sprach Zarathustra. ‘The Song of Everlasting Yearning’ has a most affecting yearning melody set amongst turbulent material that suggests a hostile environment. ‘Song of Love and Death’ is more optimistic with a sweetly dreamy melody that builds in fervour to an impassioned climax with swirling, angst-ridden strings. Finally the ‘Song of Eternal Being’ brings the work to a triumphal, heroic conclusion amongst brass fanfares and folklore-like and icy environmental music that is more reminiscent of Sibelius and other Nordic composers.

This CD comes with a bonus. Entering a code printed at the end of the album’s notes allows you to download Szymanowski’s Concert Overture, Op. 12.

Review by Ian Lace, MusicWeb International, November 20, 2008

RAUTAVAARA: Symphony No. 8, "The Journey" / Manhattan Trilogy / Apotheosis  

Einojuhani Rautavaara (b. 1928) may be the most popular symphonist alive today. All you have to do is listen to the new Naxos CD (8.570069) featuring his Symphony No. 8, The Journey, Manhattan Trilogy, and Apotheosis to understand why—sumptuous sweeping music of almost cinematic character, beautifully performed by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, under Pietari Inkinen.

Review by Robert R. Reilly, InsideCatholic.com, July 29, 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Superbly recorded, couplings of the new with the old from the Finnish master

Rautavaara studied at the Juilliard School in 1955-56 and Manhattan Trilogy (2004) was commissioned to celebrate its centennial. In recalling his youthful sojourn in the Big Apple, the composer deployed the full panoply of his late orchestral manner in a hugely engaging triptych describing his "hopeful Daydreams", "sudden Nightmares of doubt" and "slowly breaking Dawn of the personality". Where Segerstam's vivid interpretation, allied to Ondine's sumptuous recording, glows through its 20 minutes, Inkinen provides a beautifully focused reading, nearly two minutes swifter, with every detail brought out to telling effect.

Not the most gripping of Rautavaara's recent orchestral essays - the brilliant Book of Visions (also available on Ondine) is that - Manhattan Trilogy is nonetheless accomplished. What connects it to the Third Symphony (1959-61) is the treatment of the past. The symphony - one of the finest of the post-war period, serially organised within a vibrant tonal framework - recreates the idiom of Bruckner (albeit with echoes of Janacek in the orchestration in places, the Einar Englund of the Blackbird Symphony in the flute-writing) from a late-1950s sensibility and, ironically, remains the more progressive. Here, competition is extremely stiff with little to choose between this newcomer and Ondine's previous Leipzig issue under Max Pommer (coupled with Symphonies Nos 1 and 2) or Hannu Lintu's (with Cantus arcticus and Piano Concerto No 1 - Naxos, 3/99). Ondine's disc has marvellously warm, Chandos-like sound although I must confess a liking for the clarity of the Leipzig performance.

Rautavaara's most recent symphony, the Eighth (1999), was memorably recorded by Segerstam seven years ago (Ondine, 1/02). Inkinen once again produces a refined interpretation with crystal-clear detail although Segerstam achieved more grandeur in the peroration. Choice here really will depend on couplings (the Harp Concerto on Ondine). The revision of the Sixth Symphony's finale as a ­presumably - stand-alone concert piece shorn of its part for synthesiser works well enough, though it is no substitute for the whole work, for which turn to Max Pommer's bracing account (also with the Helsinki Philharmonic) for Ondine. In context, though, the Naxos programme works most effectively and is a near-­perfect introduction to Rautavaara's late manner. Both discs are highly recommendable; at its price, the Naxos is hard to beat but Ondine has the Third. Buy both.

Review by Guy Rickards Gramophone, May 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The influences on Rautavaara are many. Born in Finland, he studied at Helsinki University and the Sibelius Academy before travelling to America, where he trained with Persichetti at Juilliard and Copland and Sessions at Tanglewood.

The opening piece, Apotheosis, reminded me of Ravel’s Daphnis and Chloe, both in terms of its inherent romanticism and its musical language. Conceived as a reworking of the final movement of the Sixth Symphony, Rautavaara’s rich harmonies become increasingly dissonant towards the climactic points, creating a wonderful sound and well-paced tensions. The piece is in arch-form, building gradually towards its final crescendo, before reprising the earlier material for a gentle and poetic end.

The Manhattan Suite, composed for the Juilliard Symphony Orchestra and first performed in 2005, opens in a less complex harmonic language, with extended solos for oboe and clarinet with the violin taking the melodic interest over repeated chords. A more complex central section returns some of Rautavaara’s more dissonant language, before the initial mood returns with solos for woodwind and violin. The second movement, Nightmare is dark and brooding, with repeated figures building up tension. Rautavaara uses parallel intervals to create dissonance, with the same musical line heard simultaneously at different pitches throughout the orchestra. The effect is striking, with a rich and dramatic sound. The final movement builds gradually, as one would perhaps expect from a Dawn scene. The music develops in intensity, with a haunting melodic line becoming stronger and louder towards the peak of the movement just before the end.

Symphony No. 8 The Journey has a film-like feel. Strong, dark and powerful, the opening movement possesses its own life-force which drives the work forwards. The composer has retained the rich, romantic feel of the other works on the disc, but this is music with a true sense of depth. The darkness is appealing, and one is aware that the journey referred to in the title is no ordinary voyage. The second movement takes on a faster, more dramatic nature, as if impending danger is merely seconds away. The driving force here is brass and percussion, who give strength to this short but exciting episode. The third movement continues without a break, and provides a stark contrast. The music is slow and contemplative, featuring a beautifully played horn solo. The final movement has renewed vigour, but the melancholy spirit remains. Long melodies are punctuated by the sound of bells, and the rich harmonies are all encompassing as the music builds gradually to its climax. The movement has the epic feel of a film soundtrack and is instantly likeable but at the same time possesses a musical depth that would entice a listener to return again and again.

This is an enjoyable disc, with some excellent playing from the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. There are some wonderful moments, particularly when the brass and percussion are used to add a further dimension to the orchestral sound. The music retains its momentum throughout, and the tension created through increasing use of dissonance is a large part of the music’s appeal. This is contemporary music with tunes, but with sufficient dissonant interest in the musical language to remain fresh and enough of a musical challenge to be exciting to hear. Much can be gained from listening to Rautavaara’s music, both emotionally and intellectually, and this is a performance of which the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra and Pietari Inkinen deserve to be proud.

Review by Carla Rees, MusicWeb International, July 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Perhaps best known for his Cantus Arcticus, with its recordings of bird sounds, the Finnish composer Einojuhani Rautavaara has composed a wide-ranging body of work.

This new recording by Pietari Inkinen and the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra features three works, Apotheosis, Manhattan Trilogy and Rautavaara's Eighth Symphony, and is packed with invention and striking music.

The symphony is Rautavaara's most recent work, with a highly charged second movement scherzo framed music that is thoughtful and inspiring. If the Manhattan Trilogy looks back to the composer's student years, it's not necessarily all a rose-tinted past.

Review by Alexander Bryce, Scotland on Sunday, June 22, 2008

 

SIBELIUS: Scenes historiques I and II / King Christian II Suite  

Please don't miss hearing this lovely and reasonably priced CD! For some reason you will almost never encounter this music in concert anymore. ...it represents Sibelius at his most inspired in the field of "light" music...Read full review at ClassicsToday

Review by David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday, January 22, 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Here's a challenge you can try with fellow collectors: put on a few minutes of this disc and see if he/she can identify the orchestra. I doubt many listeners could; not only does the New Zealand Symphony have a thoroughly international sound, but its playing is top-notch in every way. The musical world is getting smaller!

Conductor Inkinen, who takes over the orchestra's music directorship from James Judd this year, is the latest in a remarkable line of young Finnish conductors making their mark on the musical world; this is his first Sibelius disc with his new orchestra, and it's a winner all around.

Not too many years ago, the repertoire recorded here was little known, with the exception of the "Festivo" from the first set of Scènes historiques. Now it is all available in multiple recordings—close to a dozen for the King Christian II music from 1898. ...Inkinen and his New Zealanders respond sympathetically to the character of this music, providing admirable readings that rank with the best: in the Scenes historiques, Gibson (Chandos) and Jarvi (BIS)—lofty company, indeed. ...Overall, though, even given the stiff competition, this is a first-rate disc. Naxos provides a full-sounding recording with an ideal balance between hall ambience and detail; English-only notes by Keith Anderson cover all the important bases. Let's look forward to more Sibelius from Inkinen—he's one to watch.

Review by Richard A. Kaplan, Fanfare, July/August 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A surprising amount of Sibelius's total output is music for the theater–either "soundtrack" backgrounds for those elaborate, mostly static "historical tableaux" that were so popular in the 1890s and early 1900s (we were easy to entertain before television came along!) or the more formal and elaborate suites of incidental music that were intended to enhance the action as well as keep audience attention on the drama during long scene changes.

Sibelius really excelled at this now all-but-extinct genre. In his early years as a composer, such gigs were easy to get and brought in much-needed cash. Later, as a world-famous composer subsidized by a generous state pension, he still took occasional theater-music commissions, and although the producers or authors who contracted for his services would have been quite happy with some recycled but generically suitable material phoned-in from Jarvenpaa, Sibelius never cut any corners, turning in music of the highest quality, always well suited to the subject matter. He genuinely loved the theater and numbered many actors and playwrights among his inner circle of drinking and socializing companions. The quality of those suites is of such distinction that their high points function quite well as stand-alone concert works; and with the obvious exception of The Tempest, their artistic worth is much greater than the dramas they were written to accompany.

All of the theater music has fared very well on records, ever since Beecham took his first swaggering pass at the Scenes Historiques. I happen to think the King Christian music is even better, though it's almost never performed.

The present release, all things considered, offers the most moving and vividly played rendition of that suite since Westerberg's, way back when. There was a recording on London-Decca in the early 70s conducted by Sibelius's son-in-law, Jussi Jalas, but the sound was drab and Jalas conducted as though the stylistic incomprehension and dreary, provincial playing of his Hungarian orchestra had thrown him into a temporary stupor.

lnkinen and his youthful, energized New Zealanders seem fully to identify with the bardic spirit of the music. Tempos never droop, the lyrical pages are full of ardor and poetry, and the more stirring and "public" movements have a heraldic stride that very nearly equals Beecham's classic readings but have the added strength of first-class sound.

These are dedicated and strongly characterized accounts of some of the finest early-period Sibelius. If you like the symphonies and tone poems, but haven't yet explored the theater music, here's an ideal place to start.

Review by Trotter, American Record Guide, May/June 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Perceptive and engaging Sibelius from this promising young Finnish conductor

Recordings of this entrancing repertoire are always welcome, particularly when they are as polished and involving as this. A virtuoso fiddler and established chamber-music performer in his own right, Pietari Inkinen (b1980) studied under Jorma Panula and Leif Segerstam. He has recently taken up the reins as the NZSO's music director and, on this showing, is a talent to watch. Not only does he draw some high-quality, notably zestful playing from his new charges, he directs both sets of Scènes historiques with such keen temperament, abundant character and sensitivity to texture and nuance that they come up with sounding strikingly new-minted. Indeed, his genrously expressive and pliable shaping of the ravishing secondary material in "Festivo" manages to stoke memories of Beecham's indelible RPO rendering from the early 1950s (Sony, 9/03) – and that's saying something!

As for the King Christian II suite, I was weaned on – and continue to have a very soft spot for – Sir Alexander Gibson/s affectionate 1966 recording with the RSNO (EMI Gemini – nla). Nor would I relinquish Petri Sakari's Iceland SO version (Chandos, 7/93, which includes baritone Sauli Tiilikainen's unforgettably haunting rendition of the "Fool's Song" from Act 5) or Vänskä's Lahti SO account of the complete incidental music (BIS, 6/99). Even so, Inkinen and his responsive band easily hold their own. There's some particularly eloquent string-playing in the achingly wistful "Elegy" (where Inkinen distils a hushed intimacy that is deeply touching), while the dashing helter-skelter ride of the concluding "Ballade" has both invigorating spring and bite to commend it.

Boasting hasndomely true and atmospheric sound, this collection certainly merits the attention of all Sibelians and represents enticing value at bargain price.

Review by Andrew Achenbach, Gramophone, March 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The two sets of Scènes Historiques were compiled and arranged in 1911 and 1912. The movements were compiled from pieces which started life in 1899 as incidental music for a pageant for the preservation of the freedom of the Finnish press which was seen to be at risk from the Russian presence in Finland and its policies. There was a seventh piece which Sibelius almost immediately reworked as Finlandia.

These two Suites contain much enjoyable music in the lighter Sibelian vein. A delightfully playful Overture - which, strangely, contains a slight reference to the bass sonorities of the 4th Symphony – how odd in this context - kicks off the first Suite. This gives way to a two part middle movement where, after a dialogue for bassoons, jubilant brass fanfares and marching music are the order of the day. Thrilling stuff it is too. Then, to change the mood entirely, the final movement contains a bolero rhythm and - how often do you find this in Sibelius? – the sound of castanets!

The second Suite is rather more serious, and, most interestingly, the music is peppered with sonorities which will become familiar in the later 5th Symphony! Again, it starts with a racy Overture and the second and third pieces contain a prominent part for the harp – so tellingly used in the tone poem The Bard, op.64 (1913)and the 6th Symphony, op.104 (1923).

Despite the fact that this is lighter Sibelius, there is a majesty and grandeur about some of the music, and the extrovert brass writing is exhilarating.

The incidental music to Adolf Paul’s play King Christian II is charming, hovering between serious and light! It’s very enjoyable music, easy on the ear with no pretensions to anything other than accompanying the play and being delightful. The Elegy for strings will be best known, as it has been recorded separately before, and it is a deeply felt piece of work. The Musette is a frolic for clarinet and bassoon. Only in the last movement, Ballade - which depicts the wrath of the King - does Sibelius let rip and write a large-scale fast movement full of incident. It might seem a little out of place by the side of the other, smaller, movements, but it makes an exhilarating end to the Suite.

I have had in my collection, for some years, the Alexander Gibson recording of both Suites of Scènes Historiques and Berglund’s recording of the first and Beecham’s of the second Suites. All these performances treat the music in a much heavier manner than Inkinen and, on first hearing, I was disappointed with this new recording because I didn’t feel sufficient weight to the music. After listening to the CD six times I am fully convinced that this is a magnificent performance into which there has been invested a lot of thought and preparation. The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra plays very well indeed, and I must mention the brass section which acquits itself commendably and makes a full, rounded, sound, which is always a joy to hear. The whole orchestra is on top form and, unlike a few of the recent Naxos CDs I have reviewed recently, the orchestra is placed a short distance from the microphones so the reverberation of the hall is heard to splendid effect after loud climaxes.

As an addition to the ever growing Sibelius catalogue this is most welcome.

Review by Bob Briggs, Musicweb International, February 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I had encountered the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra on other Naxos recordings, but I had not previously heard Pietari Inkinen in action. It is soon apparent that he has a real feel for the Sibelius idiom. He and the NZSO acquit themselves well from the start; the powerful opening of All’Overtura is well captured, the music seeming to rise mysteriously from the mist. The Scena opens a little sedately for a Tempo di menuetto, but comes to life as it should at the climax, while the mood of Festivo, Tempo di Bolero, is also well caught. Inkinen’s tempo in Festivo is slower than Beecham’s classic 78 recording, reissued on Naxos 8.110867, but then most conductors are slower than Beecham."

"The NZSO and Inkinen capture the tender opening love scene and Christian’s revenge in the blazing close equally effectively. The Musette is lively; in the Serenade from the Third Act, with music for a court ball, too, they match the mood perfectly....I can vouch for the high quality of Inkinen’s interpretation and the playing of the NZSO....The fact that the notes are by Naxos’s long-standing expert Keith Anderson is practically a guarantee of their quality."

Review by Brian Wilson, Musicweb International, March 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Before he found his symphonic voice, Jan Sibelius honed his musical craft with two sets of Scenes Historiques, orchestral suites inspired by scenes from a patriotic pageant. Pietari Inkinen leads the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra in idiomatic performances of these attractive but rarely performed scores (Naxos 8.570068 ).

Sibelius' musical fingerprints are all over these brief works. He displays a mastery of orchestral color as well as a flair for characterization. The third selection from the first suite portrays a festival at the Swedish court that explodes in a colorful Spanish bolero.

Rounding out the disc is incidental music Sibelius composed for Adolf Paul's "King Christian II." Inkinen proves to be a vivid exponent of all three scores on this Naxos CD.

Review by Robert Baxter, CourierPostOnline.com, March 23, 2008

 

 

 ANTILL: Corroboree / Outback Overture  

Most of the Australian composers writing in the first half of the twentieth century studied in Britain, making it almost impossible to find something by one of them which sounds like it’s exclusively from the "Land Down Under." But that's certainly not the case with John Antill (1904-1986), who was totally homegrown and educated, as you'll discover when you hear this enterprising release from Naxos containing two of his best works. Both are laced with Aboriginal influences and possess an informal colonial folksiness as well as an in-your-face irreverence for the musical establishment that make them uniquely Australian.

The Outback Overture (1954) is a late-romantic offering that certainly exemplifies the "Australian Sound." Although it begins peaceably, it's not long before wheels start turning and it becomes a symphonic express through the outback. Like Charles Ives, Antill draws heavily on popular folk ditties for his melodic material, including one that's somewhat reminiscent of Stephen Foster's "Camptown races" [track-1, beginning at 03:12]. Rhythmically it's a real powerhouse as the train speeds down the track. Then towards the end, Antill introduces a terrific "big tune," bringing it to a triumphant conclusion.

Back in 1913 the composer attended one of the traditional song and dance ceremonies known as a Corroboree done by the Australian Aborigines. This gave him the idea for his homonymous ballet, which he completed in 1946. A "Down Under" Right of Spring, legendary conductor Eugene Goossens described it, and with good reason, as the first score of "really authentic Australian character." In seven sections, it's a brilliantly orchestrated, fascinating study in primitive motifs and wild exotic rhythms.

The opening "Welcome Ceremony" begins surreptitiously with a passage for double bassoon over clicking percussion that would have made Stravinsky sit up and take notice! Bird-like screeches from the strings and a number of colorful melodic and rhythmic riffs on a variety of instruments then erupt, eventually bringing this part to a primeval monolithic ending.

The next section, "Dance to the Evening Star," is an ethereal will-o'-the wisp, which highlights the oboe, celesta and violin. "A Rain Dance" relies heavily on the marimba over scurrying strings and brass to conjure up a downpour with appropriate lightning and thunder from the percussion section. "The Spirit of the Wind" is a cyclone of sound featuring zephyrean winds and strings over a hypnotic rhythmic ostinato pounded out by the percussion. In "Rising Sun" prismatic orchestral effects that include curious percussive tics and pops make for a unique musical representation of daybreak. A lumbering bass clarinet over a pianissimo harp and string accompaniment conjures up images of some ungainly goanna crossing the outback in the next to last section, "The Morning Star."

The finale, "Procession of the Totems and Closing Ceremony," begins innocuously enough, but very quickly builds to an overwhelming climax. Here the brass and percussion sections (the latter even includes a bull-roarer) go bonkers, bringing this singular Aboriginal score to one of the most original and thrilling conclusions in all dance music. Oddly enough some of the massive chordal sequences towards the end may call to mind those in the crowd scenes of Puccini's Turandot (1926).

Many will remember James Judd as the talented conductor who over a period of fourteen years turned the Florida Philharmonic into a world-class orchestra…After that he moved even further south and became Music Director (now Emeritus) of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, which he conducts on this disc. He's obviously lost none of his panache, because you couldn't ask for more exciting renditions of these highly complex scores. The New Zealanders respond to his every wish with performances that are exceptional from both the solo and ensemble standpoints.

The N.Z. recording engineers have given us an orchestral demonstration disc that will probably become a classic. It all begins with the microphone set-up, and theirs must have been exemplary because even with music of this scope they've managed to recreate a truly remarkable soundstage. While it's wide and deep enough to encompass the enormous number of performers required, there's a focus and clarity that present in exquisite detail all of the many solo parts. The balance between the numerous instrumental groups is ideal, and the orchestral timbre, totally natural over the entire frequency spectrum. Needless to say the dynamic range is staggering, but the level was set to perfection with no sign of any digital distress. Make sure you take this with you the next time you go looking for audio components. And by the way, while we're on the subject of music from "Down Under," you might want to investigate another Judd triumph, the symphonies of Douglas Lilburn (1915-2001) also on Naxos (8555862).

 Review by Bob McQuiston, Classical Lost and Found (CLOFO.com), September 8, 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Terrific playing makes this energetic Australian 'Rite' the one to have

Australian composer John Antill's 1946 ballet Corroboree has the reputation of being some kind of antipodean Rite of Spring, though Antill apparently didn't know of Stravinsky's ballet when he wrote his. Based on notes taken during an actual corroboree – an Aborigine ceremonial gathering – Antill attended in 1913, the work achieved instant success, if only in its concert suite form.

Sir Eugene Goossens and the Sydney Symphony Orchestra gave the first performance of that suite in the year of the ballet's composition, and there's a 1950 (when the complete ballet was first staged) recording by the same forces available on ABC Classics. But readers may be familiar with Goossens's later account with the LSO on Everest.

Despite the many virtues of that disc, including the presence of Ginastera's fabulous ballet suites Panambí and Estancia, this new recording by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra under James Judd wins hands down. It's not just that it's complete (seven movements as opposed to four); the energy and precision of the playing, captured in pristine digital sound, propel the music into a realm far beyond the residue of mere "white fella's Dreaming" still present in the Goossens.

The colourful score, which culminates in the frankly mind-blowing "Procession of the Totems and Closing Ceremony", has much of the lurid primitivism of Revueltas's La noche de los Mayas, but without the kitsch (bullroarer aside); Antill's Outback Overture, with which this disc opens, is by contrast a more conventional, if occasionally quirky, affair and more typical of the composer's output. It, too, receives an excellent performance.

Review by William Yeoman, Gramophone, September 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Harry Belock was an east coast engineer and electronics pioneer. He was also a serious music lover. In the early 1950s, he developed a stereo recording system (on 35mm film) in partnership with cosmetics maker Helen Neuschaefer, and proceeded to record and release a series of blockbuster orchestral long-playing albums with famous orchestras and conductors. The label was called Everest, and was an instant hit (original Everest LPs have nautrally become collectors' items). One of those was a recording of Corroboree, and was a knockout! With all due respect to that historical recording (with Sir Eugene Goossens and the London Symphony) however, I doubt that it can be any better than this absolutely superb new digital one with James Judd and the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra.

Review by Giv Cornfield, cliffsclassics.com, August 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This is the first digital recording of an Australian classic. John Antill’s popular ballet is based on his memories of a corroboree he witnessed in 1913 and on material gathered during research on Australian indigenous music. The music still sounds as vibrant and colourful as ever, especially with such a committed performance as this by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. Included as an attractive filler is Antill’s Outback Overture. At Naxos’ bargain price, you can’t go wrong.

Review by William Yeoman, The West Australian

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Corroboree was one of those defining moments in Australian music when John Antill scored an exuberant ballet drawing on notations he had made mostly in Botany Bay. Antill, however, was one of those great composers whom we adored during his early performances and then shortly afterwards ignored completely. Corroboree was a bit like that. It has rarely been recorded and copies of the recordings Goossens made in London are hard to get. So this release is welcome - not just to get the work back before the public, but also because it’s a rattling good performance from the underestimated Judd and this fine New Zealand orchestra.

Review by Michael Southern, Australian Hi-Fi, August 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The 1973 recording of this landmark work with the Sydney Symphony has rightly been regarded for years as a real audiophile demonstration disc. It was also, until now, the only recording, so this is a significant release. Indispensable.

Review by Phil Carrick, Qantas The Australian Way Magazine, July 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Australian composer, singer, musician and broadcaster John Antill’s ballet Corroboree was inspired by a corroboree he saw in 1913. Featuring indigenous melodies, rhythm sticks and didgeridoo impersonations, it’s accepted as being the first ‘western’ composition to use indigenous Australian elements. It sounds at times like Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring or even Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain. An Outback Overture is an inoffensive pastiche of folk melodies and dance rhythms reminiscent of Percy Grainger. James Judd and NZSO are strong advocates for these works.

Review by Andrew Fraser, Music Australia Guide, June 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Australian composer John Antill is best remembered for his exuberant, outstandingly successful and ever-popular ballet Corroboree. Drawing on material Antill notated in 1913 at a corroboree in Botany Bay and on his subsequent research on Aboriginal music, Corroboree is a landmark in Australian music history.

Review by Robinsons Book News, June 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

John Antill was a pioneer in the Australian classical music scene. His Corroboree ballet suite was first performed in the early 1950s and it is a rich celebration of the colours and movement of Aboriginal Australia. The work was once popular, but over the past thirty years or so, has been forgotten. Fortunately, James Judd and the excellent NZSO, has revived its fortunes. They also perform Antill’s Outback Overture, a less complex piece, but nonetheless enjoyable.

Review by Greg Barns, The Mercury, Hobart, May 24, 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

You would be reluctant to suggest John Antill's Corroboree for the citizenship test but culturally literate Australians ought to have had more opportunities to get to know this landmark work in recent years. This excellent recording of the complete ballet by James Judd and the New Zealand Symphony orchestra fills a big gap.

Championed by Eugene Goossens in 1946, it can be seen as a musical offshoot of the Jindyworobak movement of the 1930s and '40s, which sought distinctive Australian literary identity in Aboriginal myth.

With precision and charm, this disc brings out its originality and its primitivist colouristics. The soft chords that close Dance To The Evening Star, the woodwind precision in A Rain Dance and the wispy strings in Spirit Of the Wind are captured with welcome clarity.

Review by Peter McCallum, Sydney Morning Herald, May 10-11, 2008

Hindson: Modern Objects

The NZSO (conductor Kenneth Young) showcases acclaimed Australian composer Matthew Hindson, pupil of Sculthorpe, now being performed by major orchestras internationally.
His music, gaudily exuberant at times, has debts to other composers, heavy metal and techno rock, yet soothes with melodies.
A Symphony of Modern Objects comprises the bold "Silicon Revolution", "Spirit Song", "Twisted Ladders" referring to DNA , and finally a slightly tedious "Vietnam War Memorial".
Violin Concerto No.1 (Australian Postcards) contains "Wind Turbine at Kooragang Island", "Westaway" (a small town in Tasmania) and "Grand Final Day".
They display the orchestra and the Australian violinist's virtuosity.
Highlight: Headbanger is a romping finale of furious brilliance, played with relish by the NZSO.
 

Geoff Adams, Otago Daily Times, 13 September 2008

KRAUS: Violin Concerto / Olympie / Azire  

Joseph Martin Kraus was almost an exact contemporary of Mozart born only five months after Mozart on 20 June 1756. He died a year and ten days after Mozart on 15 December 1792.

Like Haydn in Eszterháza, Kraus’s isolation from mainstream Europe caused him to develop along an original musical path. Some of his earlier music sounds a little like Stürm und Drang Haydn, while some of the last music has a Romantic style that makes one wish he had lived into the nineteenth century. Then we might have seen some fireworks! Kraus had a wonderful lyrical gift. Some of his melodies rival Mozart’s in their seeming endlessness—something one hears several times in the aforementioned symphonies.

The symphony discs reveal much of Kraus’s most serious and daring music while another of ballet music—Fiskarena and two early Pantomimes—suggest that at least some of Kraus’s stage efforts were in a somewhat lighter vein. I was very curious, then, to see what this disc had to offer this die-hard Kraus fan.
This is the first disc in the series not to be recorded by the Swedish Chamber Orchestra and Petter Sundqvist, who also recorded the Olympie Overture which is on this CD. Here we have a chamber-sized New Zealand Symphony Orchestra under a conductor well known to collectors of various of Naxos’s Classical-period recordings, Uwe Grodd.

…I was looking forward to the incidental music to Olympie. An absolutely splendid rendition of the overture was on my first Kraus disc (8.553734) and I was anxious to hear the rest of the score written by Kraus for the 1792 production at the Stockholm Royal Dramatic Theatre of the adaptation of Voltaire’s play. Certainly there’s nothing much to choose between this performance and the one by the Swedish Chamber Orchestra on the earlier Naxos disc and the following short wind Marcia is delightfully pointed by the New Zealand forces. The Entr’actes are mostly short and engaging pieces and the raw drama of the Overture is never recaptured until the haunting Postlude. However, this is attractive and colourful music that certainly rewarded my repeated listening.
The ballet music to Azire is all that remains from Kraus’s first opera for the Royal Court in Stockholm in 1779. It would seem that the emotionally charged music of the stage work is not reflected in these five very short numbers which are mere interludes in what seems to have been a very dramatic opera.
The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra plays with apparent relish and the sound is warm and full. However, I missed that last degree of refinement and transparency that I always felt with the Örebro recordings on the earlier Swedish Chamber Orchestra discs.
My slight disappointment with this disc in no way diminishes my hunger for further Kraus releases on Naxos and I look forward eagerly to further issues.
 

Review by Derek Warby, MusicWeb International, August 21, 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Naxos has been doing some extensive, exploratory and pioneering work on behalf of Joseph Martin Kraus, Mozart’s exact contemporary. Kraus also shared Mozart’s early demise, outliving him by only a year.  He was born in Miltenburg am Main, educated in Mannheim and later Mainz and Göttingen. He moved to Sweden in 1778 where he became a Kapellmeister and was a greatly admired figure in Stockholm musical and literary circles.

The three works presented here are, it seems, receiving their first complete performances on disc. The Violin Concerto dates from 1783 and is discreetly and conventionally orchestrated for strings, two flutes and two horns. Nevertheless it’s a big work with a first movement lasting a full quarter of an hour, which includes a cadenza written by the author of the sleeve notes, Bertil van Boer. The demands on the soloist are clearly extensive but Kraus avoids the kind of showy virtuosity that excited, say, Viotti, and the result is a discreet kind of high-powered soloistic challenge allied to genial and enjoyable thematic material. The slow movement perhaps better shows what Kraus was made of—the rather lovely lyrical material moves into gravity once or twice, a smile alternating with a grimace and there’s a fine rondo finale with a delightful pay off ending; as nonchalant an envoi as anything by Mozart.

The incidental music to Olympie consists of the overture, a march, four entr’actes and a postlude. The overture is dramatically weighted and rich in Sturm und Drang—powerful contrasts course through its seven-minute length. The March is by direct contrast for a stately wind band alternating with—predominately—string textures. The entr’actes are elegant and well crafted; that between the fourth and fifth acts is especially strong and dramatic. And the postlude ends purposefully. The music is attractive, well crafted and enjoyable.

The ballet music from Azure (1779) is much briefer—seven and a half minutes in length. This is, as one might anticipate, much lighter in tone than the more obviously dynamic and dramatic Olympie. Kraus writes extremely well and evocatively for flutes [No.23–track 12].
Naxos has here left the Swedish Chamber Orchestra for the heftier New Zealand Symphony. Soloist Takako Nishizaki plays with sensitive control though occasionally her intonation slips. Together they restore some worthwhile and valuable music to public audition.
Review by Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International, February 2008
 
The Naxos series celebrating the music of Joseph Martin Kraus is one of the glories of the partnership between Allan Badley’s Artaria Editions and Klaus Heymann’s innovative label. Born in the same year as Mozart and dying only a year after his more famous contemporary, Kraus was an original and exciting composer, whose talent was recognised by Gluck and Haydn: the latter referred to him as one of the only two geniuses he knew, the other being Mozart.
The four Naxos discs of Kraus's surviving symphonies (see review of Vol.4 in that series) are compulsory acquisitions for anyone with an interest in the music of the Classical period. They show Kraus at his most daring, a composer whose Sturm und Drang vibrancy rivals that of Haydn.
These two new discs, both useful additions to the Kraus discography, reveal a softer side of Kraus. They showcase his talent as a composer for the stage and demonstrate that this master of drama and innovation could also write music to soothe and cheer.

The first of these discs opens with the world premiere recording of Kraus’ violin concerto in C major, alongside first recordings of some of his incidental music and scraps of ballet. Kraus the performer was a violinist first and keyboard player second – the opposite of Mozart. While comparisons with Mozart’s violin concertos are inevitable, Kraus’s concerto is stylistically very different.

The first movement is broad and beautiful and comes across as the opening movement of a symphony with violin solo rather than of a violin concerto proper. Certainly its length – greater than that of the remaining movements together – gives Kraus ample space for full symphonic development. There is little combat between soloist and orchestra here. The violin’s contribution is lyrical, even when Kraus demands the soloist’s utmost virtuosity as he explores the violin’s technical capabilities. The slow movement has a wonderful singing quality, with the violin dipping and soaring in long languid lines above a responsive, pellucid base of strings. The slim winds and brass having nothing to contribute here. The finale is a lightly dancing rondo of understated virtuosity. A composer of Kraus’s Sturm und Drang credentials and recognized skill as a violinist may have been expected to finish off a violin concerto with fireworks, and sure enough the liner notes disclose that the concerto’s original finale was a pacy scherzo. Why Krause replaced that finale with this gentler one is a matter of conjecture. In any case, it feels of a piece with the rest of the concerto.

Takako Nishizaki plays the concerto with grace and expression. She is up to Kraus’ challenges and is able to conquer them unobtrusively, letting the music sing. She receives warm support from the trimmed down New Zealand Symphony Orchestra under Uwe Grodd.

The incidental music to the tragedy Olympie is remarkable for its superb overture. Its broad, brooding introduction foreshadows Beethoven’s Egmont – though it is doubtful that Beethoven would ever have heard it – and the allegro is dynamically exciting and crackles with energy. This is the overture’s second recording on Naxos. It first appeared on Naxos’s first disc of the Kraus symphonies (8.553734). As much as I admire Grodd and his New Zealanders for their genial warmth of sound, I prefer Petter Sundkvist and his Swedish Chamber Orchestra in this music for the greater bite of their attack and the excitement they whip up.
The rest of the incidental music consists of a march, four entr’actes and a postlude. The march and first interlude feature some delightful bassoon and clarinet interplay, but the third and fourth entr’actes are the highlights. The former is a beguiling courtly dance, languidly shaped by Grodd and the NZSO; the latter is a proud minuet spiced with touches of the minor mode. The attractive postlude returns to the atmosphere of brooding tragedy evoked in the overture.

The scraps of ballet music from Azire that close the disc are all that remains of Kraus’s first work for the stage. It is light and charming music, sparkling in its scoring and changes of meter and played with obvious enjoyment by the NZSO.

If Kraus’ incidental music tickles your fancy, you may want to seek out the disc of his ballet music. It is unfailingly well crafted, tuneful and charming.
The two Pantomimes are simply structured but full of imaginative touches and hustling violin figurations. They are essentially short sinfonias in the Italian style, though the second interrupts the usual three movement structure with a march movement. The Pantomime in D is particularly impressive, its central adagio a bucolic idyll that features lovely writing for solo oboe.

The main work here is Fiskarena - a stand-alone ballet score. This is not a Sturm und Drang score, but a charming and colourful work which alternates joyful allegros with charming adagios and andantes. A couple of “Anglaise” movements echo and quote a British hornpipe, and the ballet’s penultimate number dresses a folk-like Hungarian theme in delicate orchestration.
As a pendant, Naxos offers two charming snips of ballet music which Kraus, as principal conductor of the Stockholm Opera, composed for insertion into Gluck’s Armide to make the opera more appealing to Swedish audiences.
Throughout the programme, Sundkvist and his band play the music with flair.

Both discs are accompanied by learned booklet notes by Bertil van Boer, who also composed the cadenza for the violin concerto and reconstructed the Pantomime in G. His writing communicates his enthusiasm for Kraus’ music, and when that music is played as well as it is on these two discs, that enthusiasm is infectious.

Review by Tim Perry, Musicweb International, March 2008

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The only  surviving concertante work of Joseph Kraus, the Violin Concerto in C major is substantial in both length and content. It incorporates moments of technical brilliance and displays influences from Mannheim, where Kraus learnt his trade.

Takako Nishizako makes a persuasive case for it with solo playing of Classical poise and tonal purity. More might have been made of Kraus’s prescribed dynamic contrasts, especially in the first movement, but Nishizaki shows a natural, supple response to the line and phrase in the dramatic central Adagio, revelling in its soaring melodies and moments of almost recitative-like freedom. She plays the minuet-like finale with an attractive, chimerical lightness, which comes especially to the fore in its two expansive episodes. Uwe Grodd and his forces support in a traditional but uninflated style and give powerful accounts of music from Kraus’s Olympie and Azire. These recordings are clean, with fresh string-tone and well-defined bass.

Review by Robin Stowell, The Strad

PSATHAS, J.:  View from Olympus

This anticipated recording and DVD of John Psathas’ magnificent concerti triptych is performed by outstanding soloists with the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra conducted by Marc Taddei. Psathas’ music has inexorable energy, is arresting and powerful, and these concerti are amongst the finest of his orchestral achievements. This CD and DVD is nominated for the 2007 RIANZ New Zealand Music Awards for the best classical CD.

Sounz Records 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The VIEW FROM OLYMPUS album suggests that John Psathas is one of the most exciting composers working anywhere today. This is vital, wholly original, instantly appealing, obviously important music."
It really is a stunningly fine album -- unarguably great music, thrillingly played, recorded and packaged. (And this from someone who hears -- or at very least sees -- everything.) 

Jim Svejda KUSC FM (USA)

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

“He’s a composer who builds everything around the rhythm. He’s a composer who builds around percussion and this recording is so much energy, so much alive..”
“The saxophone playing on this is just absolutely sublime. And of course the NZSO..”
“Its an album to me that I’m going to keep living with because every time I put it on there’s something new..”
“Classical music has a sense of being quite staid, quite conservative, whereas this recording to me just screams at you, moves so well and yet is quite reflective at moment...”
“You’ve got this incredible sax and percussion that winds through it.. I mean I’m just stunned..”
“Beautiful production from Rattle records..”

Manu Taylor & Eva Radich Nine To Noon

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Brilliantly written.. a masterly integration of piano, strings and percussion..
The results are dramatic and convincing representations of some magnificent playing.

John Button DOMINION POST

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This landmark issue sticks its neck out and takes imaginative risks. It will deservedly sell like hotcakes.

Ian Dando NZ LISTENER

 

ELGAR: Orchestral Miniatures  

The bonbons on this collection of "Orchestral Miniatures" have little to engage your intellect or emotions; but when played well, they can have the same kind of insinuating (although far from infectious) charm found in Victorian advertising circulars. They're certainly played well by Judd and the New Zealanders, who-with their tasteful tempo-pulling and their sweet but never clingy string slides-convey the innocent spirit and velveteen textures with a remarkable period flavor. There's snap and bluffness where required-say, in the first of the Characteristic Pieces or the beery conclusion to the Bavarian Dances. But for the most part, a light touch, even an intimacy, colors the music-making here. The Romance for Bassoon moves a bit further away from the palm court, but it looks back to the two Chansons more than it looks sideways to its contemporary, the Second Symphony-and its nostalgia, too, is eloquently captured.

Froissart, Elgar's first truly Elgarian orchestral work, is the joker in this pack: at nearly a quarter of an hour it's hardly a miniature; more important, it breaks free from the salon sensibility of the other repertoire on the disc. Judd's acumen here is, if anything, even sharper. In lesser hands, Froissart can sound like a lumpy and ill-integrated piece, one in which the forward-looking ideas haven't quite been digested; but Judd manages to make it work-not by seeking to unify its ideas, but rather by heightening its contradictions. The opening 45 seconds or so set out the general approach. The hard, bright, sharply profiled opening leads you to expect a tough modernist reading; but in a bold stroke of interpretive alchemy, the ground shifts and the musical landscape is transformed by an infusion of rubato and portamento that seems the product of a different aesthetic world entirely. And so it goes, as Judd plays up contrasts of color, dynamics, and tempo in ways that always keep us on the edge. Those looking for a smooth ride may be disconcerted-but few performances I know so clearly elucidate the music's bifurcated character.

It's not clear why the Minuet has been interpolated into the middle of the Characteristic Pieces, but otherwise the production is fine. All in all, a more interesting CD than might at first appear. Warmly recommended.

Review by Peter J. Rabinowitz, Fanfare, February 2007

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Elgar is well known for his Enigma Variations, Two symphonies, Cello Concerto, Violin Concerto, the Dream of Gerontius oratorio, Serenade for Strings, concert overtures, 'Land of Hope and Glory' (almost a national antheorigin. and, of course, his Pomp and Circumstance Marches. But he wrote much other music, including many "orchestral miniatures". May Song, Carissima, Minuet, Chanson de Matin and Chanson de Nuit are truly miniatures, none exceeding five minutes. Three others-'Mazurka', 'Serenade Mauresque' and 'Contrasts: The Gavotte'-are grouped together as Three Characteristic Pieces, Op.10. Three Bavarian Dances are orchestral arrangements of three of the choral scenes from Bavarian Highlands.

All the miniatures are engaging, with their romantic charm and melodic appeal. The Froissart Overture is a fine work, not quite up to the Cockaigne Overture, which I have adored ever since my callow musical youth (I wore out my 78 RPM copy!). The idea for the Froissart was suggested by the line from Keats that epitomizes the tales of Froissart (a chronicler and historian)-Elgar placed it at the top of the score: "When chivalry lifted up her lance on high". As the opening suggests, Elgar's imagination was stirred, and the overture is rich in British splendour. This Judd recording is as good as Gibson's Chandos effort. The Judd sonics are mellower, the Gibson, brighter.

The Romance for bassoon and orchestra is lovely and even lyrical. Bassoonist Preman Tilson is fine in his brief moment of glory. The album notes are slightly confusing, listing the Minuet, Op.21, between the 'Mazurka' and the 'Serenade Mauresque' of Three Character Pieces. It is not part of the Three Character Pieces. My guess is that, in preparing the CD, the minuet was misplaced, and rather than recut the CD, Naxos cheekily printed the tracks' contents as is, without explaining that the Minuet belongs elsewhere.

An enjoyable recording of light music. I continue to marvel at how Naxos can issue such excellent recordings at such an affordable price.

Review by Fox, American Record Guide, February 2007

________________________________________________________________________________________________

At first, this disc might seem a somewhat curious mixture of rarities and the well known and often recorded. An especially nice and well-filled Teldec disc ostensibly of ‘The Music Makers’ (4509-92374-2) contained a far more sensible collection of miniatures. Then I took the CD out of its case and looked at the advertising behind it. There I discovered that this is the third Elgar disc from the NZSO under their resident conductor of some seven years James Judd. It acts therefore as a sort of mopping-up exercise. Sadly I have not heard the other two discs but if they are consistent with this one, then they can be recommended without delay - especially at Naxos price.

The nostalgic ‘Romance’ for Bassoon and Orchestra, was new, and the same goes for the ‘Three Characteristic Pieces’. These little works can be heard periodically on Classic FM and in the un-advertised, occasional corners of Radio 3 when its schedule is not too tight. In the concert hall they are encountered rarely. They are in fact quite difficult to programme, being short and often too delicate to make any suitable impression in our age of wanting music brash and ‘in the face’. The Elgar here is somewhat distant from the symphonies and ‘Pomp and Circumstance’.

The disc does however begin with a truly no-nonsense version of Elgar's early ‘Froissart’, more a tone poem inspired by the chivalric 14th Century writer of the chronicles than the composer’s ceremonial side. ‘May Song’ and ‘Carissima’ are charming almost drawing room pieces which demonstrate the other side of the Elgarian coin: the tuneful, the sensitive and the dreamy.

The ‘Bavarian Dances’ are orchestral arrangements of three ‘Scenes from The Bavarian Highlands’ a choral sequence that was so popular in the 1890s and inspired by Elgar’s favourite ‘foreign part’. His admiration for the German people was increased by their willingness to put on several of his works at the turn of the century. Part of his late-life despair was to see how this country turned against the Germans after 1914.

By ‘Characteristic Pieces’ Elgar means miniatures in a certain form or style. So we have a Mazurka, a Serenade called a ‘Mauresque’ and a pair of Gavottes which juxtapose two periods, 1700 and 1900. The movement was apparently inspired by Elgar seeing dancers in Leipzig dressed on their fronts in old dress and on their backs in modern. For some reason, not explained in the booklet, and that I fail to comprehend, the Suite is split after the opening Mazurka by the Minuet Op. 21 originally written as a piano piece in 1897 and orchestrated two years later. It is a pleasant enough piece but surely better placed elsewhere. The only explanation I can possibly think of is that the Suite, originally called Suite in D in its first version, had another movement, a March ‘Pas Redouble’ which is not recorded here and which I have never heard.

The ‘Chanson de Matin’ and ‘Chanson de Nuit’ need no introduction. They are nicely turned out here with some particularly characteristic rubato phrasing. The same can be said elsewhere on the disc.

‘May Song’ was written as a piano piece and not orchestrated until the twilight years when Elgar found it difficult to write anything but enjoyed delving into his youthful cupboard and orchestrating. ‘Carissima’ was based on sketches Elgar had conceived in late teenage. It emerged in 1913 from a request to produce a piece for a side of a 78 shellac record then proving a new and popular technology, especially with Elgar. Its length is perfect, its style delicious.

The booklet essay by the prolific Keith Anderson has biographical notes on Elgar and gives a good a background to each piece. There are also photos and biographies of the performers. So, a delightful disc with attractive and thoughtful performances and at a budget price. I suspect that this particular combination of pieces has not been put together before and probably never will again, so snap it up.

Review by Gary Higginson, Musicweb International, October 2006

______________________________________________________________________________________________

ELGAR LITE: Forget Sir Edward Elgar's reputation for a stiff upper lip: This is the British composer at his most ingratiating, from the rousing Froissart Overture to the gentle May Song and Carissima. And who knew Sir Edward had composed so charming a Romance for bassoon and orchestra? This is music to lower your blood pressure and put a gentle smile on your face.

WELL DONE: British conductor James Judd seems to have this music in his veins, and the New Zealand orchestra nicely balances energy and intimate elegance.

BOTTOM LINE: One wishes only that the Chanson de Matin would move along a little less distractedly. Good sound, as we've come to expect from Naxos.

Review by Scott Cantrell, Dallas Morning News, September 25th, 2006

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

The Lighter Elgar. No, that is not the name of this new CD, but it is nominally the subject matter of it and has been for a number of discs across the years. The actual title belongs to an LP by Neville Marriner and the Northern Sinfonia that first appeared in 1970 and is now available on EMI Classics. The term “lighter” as popularly applied to Elgar seems to encompass a number of works which the more perceptive Elgarian would subdivide by categories such as “salon”, “ceremonial,” “early mature” (see Froissart) and even a work like the Romance for Bassoon, which while small, is not light.

The bassoon was an instrument that Elgar could actually play and it is good to think that he did not totally forget this instrument so comparatively bereft of repertoire. As Op. 62 the Romance falls right between two of the composer’s most significant works, the Violin Concerto and the Second Symphony. While not as substantial as those two giants, it demonstrates equally well both Elgar’s capacity for evocative orchestration and his nostalgic or wistful tendencies. James Judd is fully aware of this and treats the piece with the care it deserves, although I found his tendency to accompany rather perfunctorily took away from the overall impression. The playing of Preman Tilson is quite good, however and he compares well as soloist with Michael Chapman on the above-mentioned Northern Sinfonia disc. As throughout much of this disc, the woodwinds of the orchestra produce a wonderful sound.

At least as small and definitely lighter are the three pieces May Song, Carissima and the Minuet. Lest one think that all of Elgar’s concern with lighter music occurred in his early days, the Minuet was written in 1901 and not orchestrated until 1928, while Carissima was written in 1913 and is one of the earliest pieces, if not the earliest pieces, created for recording purposes. Judd does very well with this brevity. It demonstrates Elgar’s ability to take a form and material that would be pleasant and nothing more in the hands of another composer and imbue it with a degree of emotion one would never have suspected. The conductor handles this small work very well, indeed this is one of his strongest performances here, although Marriner and Daniel Barenboim on his old Columbia LP both got more out of it. Judd is more perfunctory in the May Song, but his Minuet Op. 21 is the best I have heard.

The two Chansons Op. 15 have always seemed like salon music to most listeners, but Elgar thought enough of them to orchestrate them a dozen years after their composition. Perhaps Judd thinks that by stretching the note values he will make them sound more important, but this produces a rather plodding Chanson de Matin - not the type of morning one might want to wake up to. His weighty style is better applied to the Chanson de Nuit, which he rounds off beautifully. Even earlier in order of composition is the Three Characteristic Pieces Op. 10, which first appeared as a Suite in D in 1882-4 and was later arranged and orchestrated in 1899. The Mazurka receives a good performance, but Judd does extremely well with the other two pieces. He appreciates the underlying humor of the Serenade Mauresque - the piece begins as a typical example of 19th century Orientalism, but develops quickly but imperceptibly into something that could only come out of Worcester at the same period of time. Judd brings out the foreshadowings (at 2:40) of the means by which Elgar would evoke his past in so many works. Contrasts is exactly that - an 18th century Gavotte and a then-contemporary one, although the old part sounds more like Bach than Rameau. Judd does well with this.

The Three Bavarian Dances are orchestrations of three of the six choral/orchestral sections of From the Bavarian Highlands Op.27. This work presented me with my largest complaint against Judd’s conducting, the phrasing was sloppy and the overall tempo too rushed. The orchestra acquits itself well however and this is the big moment for the horns. Finally, though it starts off the disc, is the overture Froissart, a piece that is neither miniature nor light and indeed was Elgar’s first substantial orchestral work. This is a work that can sound too long for its material, but Judd has a good overall conception of the piece and stresses those aspects that an 1890 listener would have found “modern”.

In all of the above music the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra demonstrates its ability to produce an exciting and varied sound. Especially impressive are the woodwind, which excel the rest of the ensemble in both beauty of playing and ability to follow their conductor. As mentioned above, the horns are also impressive. This orchestra has a great future in front of it. Unfortunately, the Michael Fowler Centre in Wellington produces a rather blank sound which the woodwinds can surmount, which the rest of the orchestra cannot. This disc is the third that the orchestra and James Judd have recorded of Elgar’s music and the conductor is doing great work for some of the lesser-known works of Elgar. However, I cannot give it a complete recommendation due to both the recording and the conductor’s tendency to attenuate when he should accelerate and vice versa.

Review by William Kreindler, Musicweb International, September 2006

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

With Judd  their engaging, wistful charm and immediate melodic appeal, Elgar's miniatures represent a less familiar side to the composer's music.  The early Froissart Overture, inspired by chivalric lines from John Keats, was Elgar's first published work to achieve national recognition.

Originally composed as violin pieces, the Chanson de Matin and Chanson de Nuit are among his most popular miniatures in both versions.

The freshness of inspiration is a delight, superbly brought out in these fine performances from New Zealand, with James Judd always an idiomatic Elgarian."

Review by The Guardian, August 2006

LILBURN: Orchestral Works  

Douglas Lilburn, the doyen of New Zealand composers, shows the marked influence of his teacher Vaughan-Williams with overlays of Sibelius in this compilation of his earlier works. It's a perfect evocation of the dramatic sea and landscape of his home country. A Birthday Offering celebrated the 10th Anniversary of the NZSO in 1956 and there are overtones of Copland here in this delightfully playful and enjoyable work. The three overtures are all from the same stable and each has a distinctive Lilburn harmonic platform on which themes are built. They stem from his student days in London and from the dark days of the war so there's plenty of tension and drama in each work despite Drysdale being a remembrance of the composer's days on an isolated hill country farm in the North Island. There is a hint of nostalgia and remembrance in much of his music, none more so than in A Song of Islands an evocative tone poem inspired by a painting depicting a pioneer church, green fields, a vivid sea and snowcapped peaks. Forest is very Sibelius, painting a picture of autumn in South Canterbury and the Fanfare a fine arrangement of Gaudeamus Igitur in Purcellian mode with string harmonies. Marvellous music beautifully played and recorded.

Review by John Grant, Limelight, January 2007

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

What a magnificent recent release this is! Here are first recordings of the tone poem Forest and the Processional Fanfare plus second or third recordings of five other Lilburn pieces-and most of the other recordings seem no longer be available.

Douglas Lilburn (1915-2001) was a New Zealand composer who in some ways reminds me of Sibelius. His music is always tonal and romantic and is a real pleasure to hear. All of these works were originally written between 1936 and 1956 except the Processional Fanfare, which dates from 1961.

The program opens with the Aotearoa Overture, which is by now a classic and deserves to be known by every serious collector.

Forest is very much under Sibelius's influence. It won a competition sponsored by Percy Grainger and helped bring Lilburn to London, where he studied with Vaughan Williams. During that time he wrote the Drysdale Overture depicting his youthful life at Drysdale in the hill country of central North Island. His Festival Overture won a prize in 1939 and deals with the growth of New Zealand's nationhood.

After returning to New Zealand he wrote A Song of Islands in 1946 while living in Christchurch. It is a musical portrait of his beloved country.

He wrote A Birthday Offering in 1956 for the 10th anniversary of the founding of New Zealand's national orchestra, now the New Zealand Symphony. He then wrote the Processional Fanfare for Victoria University in Wellington, where he was a faculty member. It uses three trumpets in the style of Purcell as well as an organ.

This is a pure delight. James Judd conducts ably, and Naxos offers fine sound. Good notes.

Review by Bauman, American Record Guide, February 2007

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Here's an engaging follow-up to this team's admirable anthology devoted to the three Lilburn symphonies (Naxos, 8/02). Once again, I'm impressed by the ardour and sheen displayed by the NZSO, to say nothing of James Judd's elegant and purposeful direction. The engineering is beguilingly warm, rich and truthful. Certainly, readers with a fondness for, say, Sibelius, Barber or Vaughan Williams (under whom Lilburn studied at the RCM between 1937-40) should find plenty to savour.

Both the captivating 1940 overture Aotearoa (the Maori name for New Zealand) and 1946 tone­poem A Song of Islands pave the way for the first two symphonies (if you like what you hear, make haste to the gloriously lyrical and big-hearted Second). The other stand-out item is A Birthday Offering. Written in 1956 for the 10th anniversary of the NZSO, this score explores more astringent expression and affords each section of the orchestra ample opportunity for display. The music combines a whiff of Tippett with the open­air manner of Copland - and there are even intriguing pre-echoes of James MacMillan's "keening" string writing (try from 7'12 ").

Sibelius's kindly presence looms over the tone-poem Forest (an apprentice effort from 1936) and the following year's infinitely more assured Drysdale Overture, whose idyllic beauty reflects the unspoilt North Island landscape in and around the hill farm where Lilburn was raised. This well filled disc concludes with the bracing 1939 Festival Overture and Processional Fanfare, a 1961 arrangement for three trumpets and organ of the student song Gaudeamus igitur, which the composer reworked 24 years later for small orchestra. Lovely stuff - and a bargain of the first order.

Review by Andrew Achenbach, Gramophone, December 2006

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Douglas Lilburn grew up on a farm on the North Island of New Zealand. In the late 1930s and early 1940s he studied at the Royal College of Music in London, where he was taught by Vaughan Williams. There may be a detectable debt to RVW in these orchestral works but the influence of Sibelius is much more pervasive. The disc opens with Aotearoa which translates as Land of the long white cloud and perhaps could have been called New Zealandia. My intention is not to disparage the composer but merely to suggest that, in this work in particular, and to some extent in every work on the disc save the last, listeners could be forgiven for thinking they had stumbled across some previously unknown Sibelius. In one place, starting just under two minutes into Forest, Lilburn actually seems to quote the slow movement of the Finnish master’s Fifth Symphony in the bass although Robert Hoskins suggests in the booklet that this was merely “tracking”. Forest was, in any case, the earliest of the works recorded here. The Drysdale Overture of the following year and then Aotearoa show considerable advances in originality and in handling of the orchestra. The programme of the overture relates to the remote location in which Lilburn spent his formative years and the music captures a faraway spirit. In between these two works comes A Birthday Offering – a substantial present for the orchestra playing on this disc when it celebrated its tenth birthday. The opening material draws from Copland but its treatment is highly original. At the end Lilburn alludes to Happy Birthday in quite a clever way and then ends the work without ceremony. A Song of the Islands is undoubtedly the masterpiece here – an atmospheric and deeply felt tone-poem inspired by art from the South Island. The Festival Overture is worth an airing and the concluding Processional Fanfare is well-crafted but, unsurprisingly, does not reach great heights of inspiration.

Overall, this is an excellent programme which those who enjoyed the previous Lilburn release from Naxos of the three symphonies (see review) will surely want to explore. They are unlikely to be disappointed with the music and nor should anyone who likes their Sibelius. The playing of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra is committed and refined, and James Judd does an excellent job of ensuring structural cohesion in the larger works. Fine recorded sound and good notes complete a highly desirable issue.

Review by Patrick C Waller, Musicweb International, November 2006

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 For some reason I cannot fully fathom I mentally bracket the New Zealander Douglas Lilburn with the American Randall Thompson. Both wrote three symphonies and with the exception of Lilburn’s Third all are of an open-air tonal character alive with melody and rhythmic fibre. In fact the Second Symphonies of both composers represent their finest orchestral work. It's a pity that while Leonard Bernstein did record Randall Thompson 2 he never discovered Lilburn 2 despite its undeniable attractions.

You can get some but not all of the present pieces by buying various Kiwi-Pacific and Continuum CDs at full price; they are reviewed on this site. However there is no need for that as these are good versions and well recorded. Drysdale excitingly celebrates the composer's childhood on a remote sheep station. It buzzes with echoes of Sibelius’s Sixth and Third Symphonies as well as pastoral Copland - Outdoor Overture, The Tender Land and Appalachian Spring. The writing is lithe, cool and lean exactly as it is with the Aotearoa Overture - his most famous piece alongside the Second Symphony. The title means Land of the Long White Cloud - the Maori name for New Zealand. A Birthday Offering is a later piece and is less accessible though there’s not much in it. It develops into something of a rowdy New Zealand hoe-down.  Forest is a work of the composer's apprentice years and here receives its recording premiere. We already knew that Lilburn was much influenced by Sibelius in the 1930s. This is further evidence. It even begins with a rolling Tapiola-like 'explosion'. This is highly attractive writing but even the ostinato is pure Sibelius. It was written as an entry in a competition organised by Percy Grainger for music to express the essence of New Zealand. Horn-calls echo out above a bristling Tapiola-like gale. This relents at 11.06 sounding for a moment closer to one of Stokowski's Bach transcriptions. This is soon shaken off and we return to music that recalls the early tone poems of Howard Hanson - another Sibelius captive. A Song of Islands is the longest piece here. This is a confident work with a serene and firmly-rooted melody that positively gleams with confidence (4:21). It too bristles with Aotearoa-like figures and quick explosive climaxes come and go like summer storms.  Inspiration becomes thin towards the end but overall this is an engaging dewy-eyed work to add to the stock of Copland, Moeran, Butterworth and Thompson. The Festival Overture at first owes not a little to the Walton Symphony No. 1 - another work notably influenced by Sibelius. However this is an ebullient little number with plenty of vitality and freshness. Towards its close we get an almost-quote from the Tallis Fantasia by Lilburn's teacher Vaughan Williams. It was premiered in London under the baton of Sir George Dyson. The Processional Fanfare has all the expected pomp and occasion yet its fanfares are typically Lilburn contoured with that defiance and energy we know from Aotearoa here melded with a Purcellian grandeur.

There are good strong liner notes by Robert Hoskins.

A sound and well thought-through collection of Lilburn's attractive music. Not to be missed if you have already encountered the symphonies or you warm to the other composers I have mentioned.

--Review by Rob Barnett, Musicweb International, November 2006

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Douglas Lilburn wrote relatively little orchestral music. Aside from the three symphonies (also on Naxos, very well played by this same orchestra) this disc about does it. Much of the music dates from early in his career and accordingly shows a variety of influences: Vaughan Williams (Lilburn's teacher), Copland in A Birthday Offering (1956), and above all Sibelius, particularly in Forest (1936) and A Song of the Islands (1946). These were all good models, but at the same time Lilburn had an individual voice, even if its elements are difficult to pin down because of the pace at which he developed from a home-grown, New Zealand branch of the English pastoral school to the much spikier idiom of the Third Symphony and (on the way there) A Birthday Offering.

Indeed, by the early 1960s Lilburn gave up working in traditional media and concentrated his attention on experiments in electro-acoustic music, which means that he effectively dropped off the map. Listening to the attractive works on this disc, from the Aotearoa Overture (his most famous piece) to the lovely tone poems, you can't help but regret his decision, however personally motivated and necessary it may have been for him. In any case we still have this rousing, very well executed, finely recorded disc to enjoy, in which Lilburn's home-town team under the baton of the ever-reliable James Judd does him proud. An easy recommendation.

Review by David Hurwitz Classics Today, October 2006

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Imagine your excitement if you were a musicologist who'd just discovered some long lost Sibelius tone poems. Those hearing this release may well feel that way as New Zealand born Douglas Lilburn obviously owes a substantial debt to the great Finnish master as evidenced in some of the symphonic works presented here. That's particularly true of the Aotearoa and Drysdale overtures as well as the tone poems Forest and A Song of Islands. This is not meant to imply that Lilburn's music is overly derivative, because he definitely has something new and interesting to say. In fact Aotearoa, which is the native name for this land down under, stands very much on its own as a thrilling piece that's wowed British audiences for some time. You'll undoubtedly find it equally exciting along with the other three selections previously mentioned. The program is filled out with three additional pieces. A Birthday Offering was written to honor the tenth anniversary of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, which is featured on this disc. It's a wonderfully impish sounding work with an opening quote from Aaron Copland's Appalachian Spring plus some delightful orchestral eccentricities reminiscent of those found in Sir Malcolm Arnold's more irreverent creations. Then there's the Festival Overture, which is a high energy piece that in places may remind some of the opening of William Walton's first symphony. The program ends in stately fashion with a Processional Fanfare, which was originally composed for the University of New Zealand and contains references to the old student song Gaudeamus igitur. It's too bad Lilburn isn't alive to hear these magnificent performances from one of today's truly great conductors, James Judd. The recorded sound is excellent and audiophiles should take note. By the way, if you don't already know them, you'll also want to investigate this composer's three symphonies (Naxos-8.555862).

Review by Bob McQuiston, Classical Lost and Found, October 2006

 

LISZT: Symphonic Poems, Vol. 3  

"I praised the initial release in Halasz's cycle of the Liszt symphonic poems for its coarse energy and its refusal to skirt the music's melodrama—and while I haven't heard the second installment, this latest (the third) lives up to the high expectations generated by the first."

"The orchestra supports the crackling interpretations magnificently—they may not have the kind of brass lung power we get, say, from Chicago, but the grit of the strings in their more dynamic episodes and the personality of the woodwinds in their solos are sufficient compensation. Balances are exceptional throughout—and the engineers don't get in the way. All in all, a superb release

Review by Peter J. Rabinowitz, Fanfare, May/June 2007

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Michael Halasz's earlier sallies into the Liszt tone poems seemed to improve in direct proportion to their obscurity. His first CD for Naxos containing Les Preludes, Tasso, Mazeppa, and Prometheus struck me as rather pedestrian, whereas the second release comprising Die Ideale, From the Cradle to the Grave and Hamlet along with Orpheus (July/Aug 1998) was remarkable for the way he held one's interest. Now more than eight years later we finally have Volume 3, and once again I can only marvel how well Halasz is able to pull together some of Liszt's most discursive efforts-save perhaps for Battle of the Huns- and, even more remarkable, convey this obvious feel for the music to the New Zealand players.

The greatest miracle in the earlier set was the way he vitalized what may be the most rambling of all Liszt's tone poems, Die Ideale; and he pulls off a similar revelation with Ce Qu'on Entend sur La Montagne (Mountain Symphony). Liszt's first effort in the genre and in many ways a fascinating piece, not least for the evocative opening in terraced string tremolos over a low drumroll that may well have influenced D'Indy's Jour d'Ete a La Montagne (the two openings are eerily similar) but also for Liszt's expert balancing of the two disparate elements set forth in the Victor Hugo poem, belligerent writing that depicts Man's inherent violent demeanor set against radiant, even beatific string writing representing the glorious voice of Nature itself. But Liszt didn't know when to stop, and so the two factions have at it for what seems like an eternity-here 29:13. Gianandrea Noseda on Chandos takes a minute and a half longer, yet lambastes the more tumultuous pages until you wonder how Nature can even get a word in edgewise (Jan/Feb 2006). I went back and sampled the sets by Haitink, Masur, and Joo (Nov/Dec 1988)-all of whom I liked better than Noseda-but I really don't think you can go wrong with this splendid new Naxos.

Festklünge was Liszt's wedding gift to his beloved Princess Carolyne von Sayn-Wittgenstein, her Polish origins celebrated by the buoyant polonaise rhythms midway in; unfortunately, the wedding failed to come off (for one thing, her husband objected) and Liszt reworked the score into the form we know it today. Even Poles may wonder why one prominent theme sounds so much like O Canada (!), first heard as a yearning strain in the strings (1:14) before sounding forth triumphantly at the close. In the absence of the volatile Solti recording that Decca continues to keep hidden in their vault, I have in the past had occasion to praise Emin Khachaturian on Audiophile (Jan/Feb 2002); while my colleague John Landis called attention to the highly stimulating combination of Festklünge, Hungaria and Hamlet with Mark Ermler on a long-deleted Melodiya release (May/June 1992). Fortunately, Halasz, like Solti, gets it just right: this is a jubilant performance of jubilant music, smartly played and, like everything else here, afforded resonant, yet crisply detailed sonies.

No one has ever whaled the bejeezus out of Battle of the Huns like Hermann Scherchen (Mar/Apr 2002), and Halasz-wisely, perhaps-doesn't even try. This is a good, sturdy reading in the same solid vein as Mehta- the London, not the Sony. Unlike Scherchen, you get a huge blare from the organ at the end that would make even the warring Hun and Roman spirits lie back down and be quiet.

Listen, two out of three ain't bad for this stuff; and certainly Halasz's splendid readings of the Mountain Symphony and Festkliinge are more than enough to recommend this one at such slight cost. My only question is, since the two remaining tone poems- Hungaria and Heroide Funebre- are hardly enough to fill a CD, what else to include? I'd cast a vote for Liszt's patriotic fantasy Szozat und Hymnus­otherwise unavailable outside the five- disc Joo set- the Second Mephisto Waltz offered by Masur, and possibly the hard-to-find Festal March for the Goethe Centenary, just for starters.

Review by Haller, American Record Guide, December 2006

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Not top-flight Liszt but this is certainly an exhilarating journey

Like all pioneers, Liszt  paid a heavy price when his transformation of themes and wholly novel sense of structure were dismissed as the work of a charlatan. Even now one senses how Liszt's swaggering assurance as he strode into the future, a musical prophet if ever there was one, must have provoked those of a staid and conservative disposition. Today we take a different view and while the three symphonic poems on this record (the third in Naxos's series) hardly show Liszt at his greatest, they are immensely exhilarating, their occasionally inflated grandeur compensated by genuine brilliance and poetry.

All three show Liszt's favourite theme, the battle between good and evil and its resolution in Christian glory, and all three make heavy demands on their players. The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra under Michael Halasz is more than equal to these, moving fluently from one ultra-romantic mood-swing to the next. And if it is easy to imagine a greater vividness in, say, the opening tempestoso of Hunnenschlacht ("Battle of the Huns") or a more immediate recorded sound, these performances are more than adequate. For ultimate drama you may look elsewhere, but it could be argued that such relative restraint is refreshing and, overall, this is a strong recommendation

Review by Bryce Morrison, Gramophone Special Issue : Awards 2006

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This is the third volume of the continuing Naxos project to record the thirteen symphonic poems of Franz Liszt. The first two volumes were also conducted by Michael Halász and are available on Naxos 8.550487 and 8.553355.

A New Zealand Orchestra is performing the works of a Hungarian-born composer who was a major protagonist in the New German School of Music? There’s no need to worry. Although an orchestra may have a tradition of playing a home-composer’s music it certainly doesn’t have the monopoly on delivering first-class interpretations. I now believe that holding onto these blinkered principles for many years only deprived me of enjoying many superbly performed works. Examples of excellent recorded performances recently heard include Beethoven from Nashville, Tennessee; Mahler and Shostakovich from Australia; Bernstein from New Zealand; Barber from Scotland; J.S. Bach from Japan; Shostakovich from Italy and Rimsky-Korsakov from Malaysia. Now I can confidently add Liszt symphonic poems played by a New Zealand Orchestra to the roll.

During the 1840s and 1850s Liszt was primarily responsible for creating the genre of the symphonic poem (sinfonische dichtung) - a cycle of single-movement orchestral works. In the symphonic poem the score is programmatic, developing material that is pictorial, literary or even based on an idea to suggest an emotion or scene in musical terms.

Liszt’s first symphonic poem was Ce qu'on entend sur la montagne (What is heard on the mountain) which is based on the poem of the same name by Victor Hugo. It has a rather convoluted history. During his Weimar years Liszt completed the score in 1849, which was orchestrated by his assistant Joachim Raff, who also orchestrated a second version in 1850. A final version was written and orchestrated by Liszt himself in 1857.

Here Ce qu'on entend sur la montagne (track 2) is convincing and purposeful. The opening sections from 0.00-6.03 are dense and cacophonous dominated by heavy brass and low strings. The entrance of the harp at 7.29 heralds a passage of relative calm. At 10.00-12.25 I enjoyed the extended agitated section that could easily represent an impending storm. Also notable is the highly effective brass episode from 13.44 that is replaced by the woodwind at 14.20-14.47 and then by the strings at 14.48-15.27. I believe the attractive short section at 16.00-16.26 could easily represent birdsong. To my ears the harp at 17.04-17.15 introduces a brief and persuasive seascape effect followed by birdsong once again at 17.15-17.42 on the woodwind. At 18.21 Halász provides a thrilling adventure that intensifies on the brass laden homeward journey.

In 1853 Liszt composed Festklänge (Festival Sounds) which was his seventh symphonic poem. We are told little about the work other than that it was inspired by the vain prospect of marriage to Princess Carolyne zu Sayn-Wittgenstein, a Polish heiress, who was the estranged wife of the Russian Prince Nicholas.

In Festklänge (track 1) Liszt appears eager to impress with extravagant and repeated orchestral effects. Halász and the NZSO try their best in this challenging romantic repertoire but the uneven quality and inspiration of Liszt’s scoring makes achieving a coherent flow a difficult assignment. I loved the muted strings from 10.31 to 11.08 followed by a layer of woodwind at l1.09-11.28 that to me evokes a Mendelssohnian mood of fairies, elves and woodland glades, an effect repeated at 12.51-13.37. Most appealing is the short waltz-like episode at 13.38-14.04. From 16.50 Michael Halász most impressively cranks up a dense orchestral climax.

The eleventh symphonic poem Hunnenschlacht (Battle of the Huns) was composed in 1857 in response to a fresco by the painter Wilhelm von Kaulbach. The score represents the horrific battle at the gates of Rome between the Christian Emperor Theodoric and the pagan King Attila the Hun.

A strong case is made for Hunnenschlacht (track 3) with an exciting reading. Surely intended to represent the disturbing chaos of battle, the vigorous and robust opening section gives the impression that a terrifying pursuit is in progress. The brief passages for woodwind with plucked strings add colour at 2.16-2.22 and 2.55-3.02. Short brass outbursts at 4.08-4-13 and 4.29-4.41 are extremely successful. I enjoyed the effective glimpse of optimism at 5.47-6.07, followed by an orchestral climax at 6.08-6.20. The introduction of the solo organ with its hymn at 6.29-6.47; 7.07-7.21 and at 7.44-8.84 are high points. I loved the woodwind passages, that increase in length, between 9.36-10.57. From 11.44 the orchestra builds in intensity and the launch of the organ at 12.27, so evocative of the conclusion to the Saint-Saëns Symphony No. 3 ‘Organ’, serves to enhance the excitement. Liszt’s superb score ends in triumph at 14.14.

Overall these are fine performances that are high on commitment and long on character. Providing the appropriate momentum consistently seemed especially challenging for Halász in the first and seventh poems, where I would have preferred an increased fluidity to the playing. One senses some hesitancy in these densely textured and unforgiving scores that can seem heavy going at times. Overall the New Zealand woodwind are to be congratulated for their pleasing contribution. I did however have reservations about the unity of some of the brass playing at several points in Festklänge. The clear and well-balanced sound is of a high standard as are the booklet notes provided by Keith Anderson.

I do not have any recommendable versions of these three Symphonic Poems in my collection. However, the recordings that are most likely to be encountered are available in a 5 CD set of Liszt’s works for orchestra performed by the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra under Kurt Masur on EMI Classics (7243 574521 20). An alternative also recommended to me is the five disc set of Liszt’s complete Symphonic Poems from the Budapest Symphony Orchestra under Arpad Joó on Hungaroton HCD12677-81.

Halász and the NZSO prove sterling advocates for these highly colourful and eventful, if often overlooked, symphonic poems.

Review by Michael Cookson, Musicweb International, October 2006

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

This is the third installment in Michael Halasz’s ongoing cycle of Liszt’s orchestral works for Naxos. These are forceful performances that remind us of Liszt s centrality in the history of classical music: Halasz plays up the overt debt to Berlioz in Festklange and hammers home the point that Hunnenschlacht and Ce qu’on entend sur la montagne between them pre-empt almost every orchestral and harmonic innovation usually ascribed to Wagner, Tchaikovsky or Strauss. Halasz’s approach is at times hard-driven and there are moments when he doesn’t quite attain the requisite level of Romantic introspection to offset the overriding sense of monumental awe.

Review by The Guardian, August 2006

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Liszt's Battle of the Huns takes its subject from a painting of the struggle between the Christian Emperor Theodoric and the pagan Attila the Hun. " Michael Halasz has the full meaasure of this repertoire and this is one of the most successful collections of Liszt'z symphonic poems."

--Review by The Penguin Guide, July 2006

 ELGAR: Marches  

Nearly 80 minutes of Elgar in march tempo may be a bit much at a single sitting, but this disc fills a useful niche. The most interesting work here is the symphonic prelude Polonia, dedicated to Paderewski and composed during the First World War. Making use of various Polish melodies (including music by Paderewski and Chopin), at nearly 15 minutes it's a major statement for a mere "occasional" work, and the only reason I can think of that it isn't better known is that it's not about England so no one especially cares. James Judd and the New Zealand Symphony play it very well, as they also do the Pomp and Circumstance Marches. Frankly, you can have your Boults and Barbirollis: compared to Judd they sound far less involved. He actually has interesting ideas about phrasing (listen to how he drives the opening of March No. 2), and he makes a persuasive case for this music as music, rather than as a high school graduation exercise or some other mundane event.

The Coronation March and the Funeral March from Grania and Diarmid also are bigger than their titles might suggest, the first as reflective as it is opulent, the second really a brief, elegiac tone poem. It's a bit hard to get excited about either the Empire March or the March from Caractacus, and the March of the Mogul Emperors (from The Crown of India Suite) could crash and bash with more abandon, but there's certainly enough here to whet the appetite of committed Elgarians. The sonics are quite good--a touch low-level perhaps, but easily adjustable, with plenty of room to expand and good bass separation between timpani, bass drum, and organ pedals (which are well caught but not overbearing). In short, this is another successful collaboration between Judd and the New Zealanders--long may they continue.

Review by David Hurwitz, Classics Today, March 2007

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"For all those odious associations, [Pomp and Circumstance] is still a heck of a tune, given the full treatment here by James Judd and the New Zealand Symphony, along with 10 more equally rousing Elgar marches."

Anthony Holden, The Observer, 20 March , 2005

MAYUZUMI: Bugaku / Mandala Symphony / Rumba Rhapsody  

Anyone hearing this disc would have to conclude that Toshiro Mayuzumi was certainly among the most accomplished of modern day, Japanese composers. The four works included here display different facets of his creative output. "Bogaku" was commissioned by the New York City Ballet and is based on ancient Japanese imperial dances. Anyone who remembers the old Denon LP of this will recall that it's extremely powerful music, masterfully orchestrated and an audiophile's dream come true, if properly recorded, as it is here. Batten down your speakers! The "Mandala Symphony" was inspired by Buddhist teaching and certainly sounds Japanese. Its two movements represent the descent of Buddha to enlighten man and man's ascent to seek enlightenment. They're joined musically through two "hexatone" rows based on the overtones of bells found in Japanese, Buddhist temples. Again, the orchestration is simply amazing and the sonic effect, dramatically overpowering. The program also includes two much earlier works, both of which are indicative of the composer's early preoccupation with French impressionism. They also show Latin American as well as Southeast Asian influences, which were acquired during the World War II years, but the lion's claws of Mayuzumi's dynamism show through in a number of places. "Symphonic Mood" was described by the composer as a musical expression of nostalgia, while the "Rhumba Rhapsody," which receives its premiere performance here, was in some ways an early sketch for the second half of the former. If you like this music, by all means investigate that of Toshiro's teachers, Kunihiko Hashimoto and Akira Ifukube.

Review by Bob McQuiston, Classical Lost & Found, February 9, 2006

Jonathan Lemalu

"OPERA ARIAS" by Boito, Gounod, Mozart, Rossini, Tchaikovsky, Verdi and Wagner. New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, Judd. Texts and translations. EMI Classics CDC 57605

Fast-rising New Zealand-born bass-baritone Jonathan Lemalu, currently establishing an international opera and concert career, here offers a "calling card" recital - thirteen arias, seven composers, four languages, in roles ranging from lyric baritone to basso prorundo. His singing doesn't justify the ambitious selection. Lemalu is only twenty-eight, and his lack of seasoning tells in every number. For one thing, he sounds young, which is fitting enough in Papageno's two arias and Figaro's "Non più andrai."

Article from: Opera News Article date: July 1, 2005 Author: Cohn, Fred 

8.555975 - AKUTAGAWA: Ellora Symphony / Trinita Sinfonica / Rhapsody  

"An interesting - sometimes arresting - disc of music of a composer new to me.

Akutagawa was an active and influential composer, a conductor and director of JASRAC (the Japanese copyright collection service, similar to our MCPS/PRS Alliance). His works are strongly influenced by Stravinsky and his teacher Akira Ifukube. Ifukube, like Stravinsky, had a penchant for ostinati that evidently rubbed off on the young Akutagawa. He visited the Soviet Union, and brought Shostakovich's Symphony No. 4 to Japan for the first time.

An exciting mix, then. Fellow countryman Takuo Yuasa clearly thinks so, as well. Yuasa conducted – and very well, too – Peter Donohoe's disc of Rawsthorne piano concertos on Naxos.

The Rapsodia boasts an amazingly arresting opening, brass glissing away before embarking on a Bartók-slanted tribute to Dukas' Sorcerer's Apprentice - a link I noted before I read Morihide Katayama's excellent introduction to Akutagawa in the accompanying booklet. The Stravinsky influence here is more of the early Rimsky-Korsakov pupil than that of the later works. Certainly the oriental within the occidental is evident here; the occidental to the fore, by the way. Those ostinati I mentioned a little earlier generate a fair head of steam, especially when as cleanly performed as here.

The Ellora Symphony takes its inspiration from a town in the Deccan in India that boasts a temple made up of a sequence of rock caves. The composer was inspired by the seemingly infinite and chaotic layout of the caves and also by the explicit sexual content of some of the cave decorations. Akutagawa mirrors the labyrinthine caves in creating music that steps away from the 'directional movement towards climaxes' paradigm. Instead it celebrates the infinite crossing of masculine and feminine where 'life is renewed forever' - to quote and paraphrase the booklet notes.

The opening is slow and ritualistic, rather than sensuous. The excellent recording reproduces the crescendi with real presence - there is a very good sense of space here. Alas this music can appear rather diffuse as Akutagawa's sudden juxtapositions become tiring and even predictable. There is no doubting the composer's mastery of atmosphere creation - he can set one up within seconds - and there is plenty of internal energy here, but a lot of this sounds just like film music.

Finally the early Trinita Sinfonica of 1948, a work whose first movement exudes real humour entirely in keeping with its 'Capriccio' label. This contrasts with the lullaby-like 'Ninnerella' - lovely plaintive bassoon solo. The finale is a wonderful way to end an interesting, if not life-changing, disc. There is a distinct Rimskian jollity about this bright and extrovert five-minutes that will surely leave a smile on your face."

Colin Clarke, MusicWeb International, July 2005

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"The son of a famous writer and the brother of a famous actor, Yasushi Akutagawa was a leading figure in Japanese arts and letters throughout his long and successful career. He was active not only in the professional realm, but was also a strong advocate for amateur music-making, conducting both amateur choirs and orchestras while refusing a fee. His music spans a number of styles, including a brief experimentation with the avant-garde. He abandoned this path though when he came to the conclusion that such music would be inaccessible to many listeners, a situation that ran contrary to his populist outlook on the arts.
The Rapsodia per orchestra from 1971 is a somewhat programmatic work. The composer imagines himself as a sorcerer, waving his wand over the page and bringing sounds to life. A heavily orchestrated work, it draws on a wide complement of winds and percussion to give it its distinctive palette. Formally, the music owes much to Stravinsky, with memorable themes that recur throughout, interspersed with bursts of energy and variation of timbre. The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra presents a tight, no-nonsense type of performance, with clear balance between sections. Takua Yuasa is skilful at handling so large and dense a score, always avoiding washes of sound in favor of clarity of line and demarcation of melody.

Named after a town in India that is home to a famous temple, the Ellora Symphony is less conservative than the older Rapsodia. There is considerably more variation in dynamic levels, and the lyricism of the later work is missing. There are dark bursts of thick chromatic harmonies, and formally there is less thematic glue to hold the piece together. Instead, we are treated to a vast canvas in which colors and shapes either fade in and out of view or are abruptly changed before the eye. Made up of sixteen short sections, there is infinite variety in the orchestration and plenty to keep the interest of the listener. The New Zealanders turn in a memorable performance, full of vigor and interest with some striking and fascinating shifts of mood.

Trinita Sinfonica is an early work, one which brought the composer his first success. The influence of Shostakovich is evident from the first bar, with martial rhythmic gestures accentuated by almost military punctuation in the percussion. There is little subtlety in the shifts in dynamics with rapid jarring leaps between pianissimo and fortissimo. Another fine performance from the New Zealanders makes this the most memorable and dare I say listenable work on the disc, and it should be for this piece that a purchase be made.

Excellent but somewhat overlong program notes provide ample information about the composer and his times. An interesting figure, sadly neglected in western countries, this disc is a welcome introduction to a composer certainly worthy of hearing. Thanks be to Naxos for continuing to plumb the mines of interesting and unusual music, and presenting it at their ever-attractive price.

Highly recommended."

Kevin Sutton, MusicWeb International, June 2005

Copyright 2008