With exalting energy, spontaneity at each moment, and undeniable expressive fervor, Marc Coppey and Peter Laul give Beethoven’s music a true “face;” here it is at its most inventive, at its warmest, at its most authentic, one could say. The passion of these two artists is evident from beginning to end of these admirable scores, offering, sharing the most human character of a creator of genius. This is art in its universal dimension.

Ein klarer Punktsiegt für den Chef und das Ensemble: Weimar 2018 klingt wunderbar klassisch und frisch zugleich.

Dieses letztere [Streichtrio Nr. 10] strotzte vor Energie und geriet nicht in Vergessenheit wie das erste und ist und bleibt ein großer Favorit zahlreicher Musiker.

I don’t know how many commercial recordings of the Goldberg Variations come to market each year, but with this batch I will have reviewed 11 in about as many months. It should be no surprise that again Bach’s music stands up to a virtually infinite number of interpretations and reworkings.

Perhaps the most idiosyncratic of these comes from the Chinese-born pianist Ji Liu (who goes by simply “Ji”), known to popular culture from a 2016 Android commercial. Initially, I was nonplussed when Ji’s opening aria was painfully slow. Soon it became clear, however, that Ji was being neither staid nor indulgent. Rather, he had chosen the tempo to highlight the balance among voices, which was exquisite. Taking a similar approach to Gould’s 1981 recording in Variation 5, Ji blazes through at full speed, though his articulations are clearer and more even. He makes some daring choices in the canonic movements, with mixed results. The detached articulations of Variation 6 work better than the reverberation added to the Fughetta (Variation 10), which clouds the discrete voices. Nonetheless, Ji is to be commended for taking risks, something not always appreciated by the recording industry. This really pays off in the French ouverture (Variation 16). A combination of added reverberation, exaggerated double-dotted figures and flourishes, and lively passagework make the variation fresh while at the same time grounded in tradition. The Quodlibet is broad and declarative, though without the irony for which I had hoped. In the liner notes, Ji writes that it was in Bach’s Goldberg Variations that he found his own sound. In doing so, he has produced a recording that is refreshingly original and executed with conviction. Ji’s Goldbergs will not be to everyone’s taste and it is decidedly not a middle-of-the-road reference recording. For listeners looking for a more exploratory experience, this disc will not disappoint.

Kemal Cem Yilmaz offers a more traditional reading of Bach’s variations, beginning with an opening aria that takes advantage of the piano’s full range of sounds, including a carefully deployed sustain pedal. In general, the piano sounds too bright and resonant for my taste, and the outer voices often obscure the inner ones. This seems to be more a function of the recording itself rather than Yilmaz’s technique, which the Fifth Variation proves to be formidable. Like the other imitative variations, the Fughetta would benefit from more clarity in the individual voices. Throughout, Yilmaz seems to favor moderate interpretations. In the ouverture, for example, he avoids the theatricality and pomp characteristic to the genre. Yilmaz seems most comfortable in the adagio (Variation 25). This is the high point of the entire disc, pensive and wistful. He treats the variation with a light touch, leaning into the chromaticism gently and without affectation. Yilmaz plays the Quodlibet straight, opting again for a middle-of-the-road approach to tempo and line. As a whole, the performance seems to lack a cohesive Gestalt, as if each movement exists discretely. Although this is a competent reading of the Goldbergs, it is also a relatively neutral one. For yet another recording of this piece to contribute to the field, it must contain new or individual interpretive insights or be performed and recorded impeccably. Despite Yilmaz’s considerable talent, this disc falls short on both counts.

Bach’s keyboard music lends itself well to arrangement and reworking, but Concerto Italiano seem to have upped the ante with this latest recording, a potpourri of variation forms arranged for Baroque orchestra. In the opening Passacaglia in D Minor originally for pedal harpsichord (in C Minor), Alessandrini’s arrangement is an intelligent, idiomatic one and the players are in fine form. By mapping each voice directly to a string instrument without adding a continuo part, Alessandrini allows for a homogeneity that alludes to the harpsichord but with all the added flexibility of the strings. The Aria variata alla maniera italiana in G Minor is reconstituted for solo violin and continuo here, with Nicholas Robinson taking the solo part. He dispatches the theme and each of the 10 short variations with effortless panache, sailing through figurations one moment and delivering mournful lyricism the next. A canzona for organ appears next in a four-part string transcription. As in the Passacaglia, the strings provide shape, ebb, and flow in ways the organ simply cannot.

The lion’s share of the disc, however, is reserved for the Goldberg Variations. Alessandrini himself opens with harpsichord alone with a sensitively ornamented reading of the aria theme, alternating with the strings. For the variations, he mixes and matches chamber configurations. Even the relatively pedestrian Variation 3, a canon for three voices, turns into something special here, with tastefully contoured violin lines over the cello and harpsichord. Concerto Italiano’s typically vibrant playing is ideal for variations like the Fughetta, in which even the continuo seems to take flight. Alessandrini and the players commit wholeheartedly to exaggerated notes inégales and dramatic flourishes of French ouverture in Variation 16, and the result is wonderfully dramatic. The Quodlibet is unsentimental, fast but still a touch heavy, while the closing aria offers a sort of mirror image of the opening one, beginning with strings and moving on to solo harpsichord. These are masterful reworkings of Bach’s original material, so idiomatic that it is easy to imagine Bach reusing his keyboard works in the exact same manner. That Alessandrini and Concerto Italiano are so fluent in these styles only makes the arrangements sound more natural. This is surely one of the best instrumental arrangements of the Goldberg Variations available, and the other treasures on the disc make it doubly desirable.

[...] these two apparently incompatible instruments creating a remarkable program that Vähälä and de Groot handle with complete technical and musical assurance.

Marc Coppey‘s superb new recording of Beethoven’s five sonatas and three sets of variations for cello and piano (Audite) with Peter Laul explores the composer’s extraordinary, evolutionary use of the cello-piano combination. It was recorded live during two nights in St. Petersburg, Russia. These lyrical, sunny readings capture, even at moments of greatest spiritual and emotional intensity, Beethoven’s purely physical delight in instrumental sound and virtuosity, and the dimensions of his humanity.

The two sets of Magic Flute variations actually sound like an homage to Mozart, while the concluding Fugue for the last Sonata has a serenity and resignation of command that suggests Prospero. Despite having played the music for 20 years, Coppey and Laul make seemingly spontaneous discoveries and show this with communicative awareness of a narrative that makes live performances so special.

Playing his 1711 Goffriller, using a modern French bow, a mix of gut and metal strings, and the blue Henle edition of the score, Coppey finds a magical, illuminating groove that perfectly integrates the hip and the modern.

Coppey opted for the Small Hall of the St. Petersburg Philharmonia, where the premieres of Haydn’s Creation (1802) and Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis (1824) took place. The hall’s resident Steinway and the recording equipment from the former Melodiya studios completed the Saint Petersburg ensemble.

I spoke to Marc just before his annual chamber music festival in Colmar, France.


Does Beethoven’s music for cello also separate out in three periods, like the quartets and piano sonatas?

I think so. In the first two sonatas he is not as daring and the balance is very much in favor of the cello. The third one, however, has the kind of perfect balance that other major middle-period Beethoven has, like the Razumovsky Quartets and the Violin Concerto. He uses both instruments with absolute freedom and it’s total cello—with an incredible balance between their expressive capacities and tonal qualities.

And the last two sonatas, Op. 102, must be the late period.

The last two sonatas are what make it a unique set. Of course they’re smaller than the late quartets, but only the quartets, the piano sonatas, and the cello sonatas have these three major phases. And in this last phase for the cello sonatas it’s about anything you can imagine that can happen between two instruments.

Such as?

Such as the absurd fugue between two manifestly unequal fugue partners in the last movement of the last sonata. And to think that it comes after the only really slow movement in the whole set. But even though it’s a joyful, jubilant fugue, Beethoven still embraces within it the tender feelings associated with his close friend and its dedicatee Countess Anna Marie Erdödy. The last sonata is also in the long tradition, from Bach to Schoenberg, of the opposition between D major and D minor representing death and transfiguration, or death and resurrection. This last sonata is part of that and closes the five sonatas in the most glorious way

How early did you begin playing Beethoven?

I started playing Beethoven when I was really young, ten or 11. My teacher came with the music to my lessons and read them with me. I had only been playing the cello for two years but I still have a vivid memory of hearing the music for the first time. You know, Beethoven wrote wonderfully for the cello because he knew everything there was to know about the instrument, and so I learned to love the cello.

Why are your Magic Flute variations so successful?

From his earliest years, Beethoven combined the different voices of the cello; in the Magic Flute variations it sounds like each variation was for a different person onstage. They are like little operas that define the modern cello being an instrument that is more than beauty and being close to the human voice. In these variations Beethoven is close to human voices plural, as if he were speaking to us through the cello. There is something in general about the quality of the cello which lends itself to storytelling because of the variety and the dramatic aspects of the sound.

You recorded in St. Petersburg because of the connection to the first performances of Beethoven’s works, many of which took place there during his lifetime.

And because of the great acoustics, and the wonderful audiences. You can really project in the hall’s powerful, generous acoustic—but it’s not too big either, it’s very well balanced. There were a few cellists and musicians at the performances; but mostly the general public. The hall was sold out. It’s like that in Russia; audiences there are really passionate.

You recorded over two nights.

It was a challenge, but we’d been playing the sonatas for 20 years, and felt we could handle it. We were also at a phase in our lives when we felt more into the risk of live concerts—and basically because playing Beethoven not on the edge is not being Beethovenian.

In a world of marketing hype and hyperbola the Staatskapelle Weimar can say quite literally that they have the longest performing tradition of any ensemble in the world as far as the bulk of the repertoire on this disc is concerned. This is for the simple reason that Richard Strauss served as second Kapellmeister from 1889-1894, premiered both Macbeth and Don Juan with the orchestra and completed Tod und Verklärung early on in his tenure there. Aside from any historical links the Weimar orchestra are ideally suited to the rich Romantic style of this music. They make a fabulously rich and warmly integrated sound - as evidenced in the 2005 recording they made for Naxos with Antoni Wit of the Alpine Symphony which remains one of my absolutely favourite versions of that work.

Here they are led by their current principal conductor Kirill Karabits. Karabits has been creating an admired discography of mainly Russian/Soviet music with the other orchestra he directs - the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra. The disc gets off to an excellent start with a very fiery and highly dramatic reading of Macbeth. The liner makes clear that Strauss wrote this very much under the influence of Liszt's model of the symphonic poem right down to his choice of a literary/historical figure for the work. However the liner is also correct in noting that this is not a narrative story told through the medium of the orchestra but rather a character study of the principle protagonist himself. Strauss started working on this piece when he was just 22 completing the first version early in 1888. But criticism from his mentor Hans von Bülow meant that it was not premiered in Weimar in a revised form until 1890. Which is why it appears 'later' in the Strauss catalogue than the other more obviously mature works on this disc. Over the years this has proved to be the least popular of the Strauss tone poems either on disc or in the concert hall. The reason for this are fairly easy to discern; although it remains a remarkable apprentice work it displays little of the unique flair for the orchestra or indeed form or melody that is evident in Don Juan completed later the same year on September 30th 1888. This blossoming of Strauss' unique talent from potential to full-blown mastery in just a few months is one of the great musical miracles.

Karabits' strength here is to play the work for what it is not what it might become. The liner references Strauss describing the music as needing to be "harsh and gruesome" as the subject was "of a very wild nature". By the sensibilities of the 21st century the former description seems somewhat excessive but relatively speaking this is cruder and certainly harsher than most other Strauss works and Karabits it very good at bringing that out. Not that his superb Weimar players are in the slightest bit crude or harsh. The collective sound of this orchestra is an enduring joy. This is built on a fantastically solid and rich bass line - Karabits uses the traditional seating plan with the orchestral string basses to his left behind the 1st violins, the cellos next to the first violins and the 2nd violins to his right. Additionally the brass are stretched across the back of the orchestra [YouTube videos of the orchestra in concert and a brief promotional video of the recording of this disc confirm the evidence of the ear from the CD alone]. The brass and wind choirs are beautifully balanced within themselves and the larger orchestral group. Additionally, the trumpets use rotary valve instruments and throughout there is a real sense of an ensemble continuing a performing tradition. Technically the playing is of a superb level - one imagines Strauss would have been thrilled if only his works had been played at this standard in the 1890's – but it is the sound of the orchestra that makes this one of my favourite ensembles in the world at the moment.

But do not think everything is subsumed into a bed of wallowing tonal allure. Karabits can get the orchestra to play with bite and brio as required as the very opening of Macbeth proves. On disc since the work's inclusion in Rudolf Kempe's renowned survey for EMI in Dresden of Stauss' orchestral works there have been many versions variously coupled some of which I know some I do not. Maazel's earlier VPO recording on DG has something of the thrust that Karabits achieves less so in his Bavarian RSO remake. Zinman in Zurich I rate lower than many in Strauss generally and Dorati in Detroit is just a bit lacking in drama and orchestral brilliance. Del Mar in Aarhus is disappointingly scrappy too. Returning to Jarvi with the SNO underlines the exciting impact the Chandos recording gave these performances but again lacking the last degree of orchestral cohesion. Hard not to hear in Kempe an intuitive understanding of how to pace and phrase this music but the EMI recording really does begin to sound its years and even the remarkable Dresden Staatskapelle of the 1970's cannot beat the sheer collective virtuosity of their Weimar colleagues today.

But the quality of the playing here would count for little if Karabits was not able to tie the whole work together in as convincing a manner as he does. For once this really does sound like the work of a budding genius not just a piece of great promise. Around the 5:00 minute mark I like the way Karabits finds both lyrical flow and dramatic tension that draws the section of the work together. Indeed, throughout this performance it is the sure handling of the pace of the score that impresses right through to the closing glowering pages marking Macbeth's death. So all in all an excellent performance that competes with the best in the current catalogue.

Don Juan that follows is equally technically fine - worth mentioning here that the Audite recording in the sympathetic acoustic of the Weimarhalle is very good indeed. Just in standard CD stereo but the engineers find detail and warmth with the orchestral soundstage clearly delineated whilst providing the collective tonal lustre which defines the orchestra. Don Juan is a staple of every half decent orchestra the world over and of course on disc the competition is ferocious. Karabits is less individual here; the playing is a joy, the music the enduring marvel and tuneful feast it always is but somehow without the headturning individuality I heard in Macbeth. The benefit is a more light-hearted capricious Don Juan than some versions which emphasise the muscular virtuosity of the work. The latter approach is embodied in the famous Solti/Chicago/Decca recording which is as dynamic as it is domineering. But take the melting love theme introduced on the oboe around 6:50 in this performance. This is beautifully played in Weimar - I like the way the recording picks up the muted horns and harp arpeggiations and the oboe itself is lovely. But for a more intimate and touching rendition it is hard to surpass Lothar Koch (I assume) for Karajan in Berlin. The genius here is the tenderness Karajan/Koch brings to a scandalous character, the fractional hesitations suggesting a humanity and vulnerability that is disarming. Perhaps I am over interpreting that but in direct comparison this new version is 'just' beautifully played. Even the famed heroic horn call that follows is played with rock solid power and bravura but just a tad too little flashing-eyed heroism. No-one hearing this performance in isolation will be anything but impressed by the sheer quality of its execution but conversely it lacks the stand-out individuality that made Macbeth such a compelling listening experience.

The third main work is Tod und Verklärung which shows further the developing composer not just in terms of compositional technique but branching out into the realm of the philosophical tone-poem. For a man not yet thirty it seems unlikely that he would embrace the concept about the end of life yet that is what he did. Also, unlike the preceding two works there is a detailed narrative referring to the fevered recollections of a man on his deathbed, his death and subsequent 'transfiguration'. By now on the disc Karabits' interpretational choices as far as Strauss are concerned are becoming clearer. Again this is a sensitive and superbly played performance but it strikes me that Karabits seeks to eschew any sense of sentimentality. A case in point is the beautiful unfolding flute melody that occurs between the two main 'fever attacks' [track 3 9:20] – Karabits allows the flute freedom to phrase but clearly prefers a simpler direct approach. Again worth drawing attention to the quality of the Audite recording which allows all the inner string accompanying detail and those harps again to register. The control of tempo through the following etwas breiter with a well managed poco stringendo shows Karabits' intelligent handling of the structure but come the following appassionato reliving the dying man's former loves and again it is just a fraction too 'placed' for me. The famous Szell/Cleveland recording on CBS/Sony was my introduction to this work. Listening to this same passage there for sure the recording is boxy and constrained in a way the new one patently is not but goodness me Szell finds the sense of delirium and unrestrained passion that is surely what Strauss sought to represent - heresy to say, Reiner in Chicago just seems fast here. Of the more recent recordings I have enjoyed Manfred Honeck in Pittsburgh on Reference but he is generally more interventionist than Karabits so it will be down to the individual listener's tastes as to what they prefer from the podium.

But returning to this new version, whatever passing thoughts one may have about interpretational corners the quality of the orchestra, the marvellously apt collective sound they make and how well this has been caught by the engineering is an ongoing pleasure. As at the last climax of the 'love' music is reached around 15:25 listen to the way the Weimar brass expands to fill the soundstage. But the engineering is equally good at catching the uneven heartbeats on the timps and then through the final spasm of life into death at 17:30 the deep-toned gong is beautifully rendered. No surprise either that this orchestra is perfectly equipped to play the closing 'transfiguration' music with effortless grandeur. Karabits' pacing here is very good indeed; steady but with an inexorable sense of being pulled forward towards the light. Those harps again are allowed to decorate the melodic lines with a gorgeous filigree texture and Karabits' uncomplicated approach pays substantial dividends with the simple dignity of the statement of the love theme now considered in calm recollection at 20:00. Unmannered apt tempi allow the music to unfurl and open out with a visionary radiance that is very impressive. As the vision fades over the closing two minutes of the work the qualities of playing recording and indeed interpretation bring the piece to a very satisfying conclusion.

The addition of the Festmarsch in C that Strauss wrote for the amateur orchestra he used to conduct is indeed a rarity but by being placed straight after the pained ecstasy of Tod und Verklärung the phrase "down to earth with a bump" comes to mind. Of course its well played and of course it is interesting to hear but even the liner describes it as "a mixture of fairground and emperor's birthday" - a brilliant description I cannot improve upon or elaborate. Clearly, the vast majority of collectors will base their decision to buy this disc or not on the main three works and the march will be a bonus, or not.

The stature of the Weimar Staatskappelle deserves to be further elevated by this disc and the value of having this ensemble play these works for the reasons mentioned earlier is clear. Macbeth is a palpable hit, Don Juan very good technically but slightly faceless interpretatively with Tod und Verklärung basically somewhere between the two with Karabits' style perhaps better suited to this work although I think he could afford a little more expressive freedom and impetuosity to balance his clarity and control. Superb playing and engineering ensure this is never less than a pleasure to listen to.

Waar nog bijkomt dat de nieuwe remastering tot een aanmerkelijk beter klankresultaat heeft geleid.

de uitvoeringen zijn dat meer dan waard. De vier solisten behoorden in hun tijd tot de beste musici die voorhanden waren.

Neben Einzelsätzen aus bekannten Suiten wie "España" von Isaac Albeniz oder den "Danzas Espagñolas" von Enrique Granados haben die Cheng-Geschwister auch eine vollständige Suite aufgenommen: "Siete Canciones populares españolas" von Manuel de Falla.

Der 1876 in Cadiz geborene Komponist hat hier sieben spanische Volkslieder und Tänze in die Konzertmusik des frühen 20. Jahrhunderts überführt – flirrende Mittelmeerklänge, die das kanadische Duo mit Temperament und Hingabe spielt.

Flirrend

Gaspar Cassadós "Suite per Violoncello" trägt Bryan Cheng dann allein und äußerst virtuos mit seinem Cello vor. Das 1926 komponierte Werk bezieht sowohl die barocke Sarabande als auch volkstümliche katalanische Tänze mit ein. Flexibel im Ton, bringt Bryan Cheng beide musikalischen Welten in den insgesamt drei Sätzen des anspruchsvollen Werkes zusammen.

Flamenco

Neben den beiden komplett aufgenommenen Werken finden sich verschiedene Zugabenstücke, wie das Intermezzo aus den "Goyescas" von Granados, eine Malagueña – als Flamenco-Reverenz von Isaac Albéniz – und abschließend Pablo de Sarasates "Airs bohémiennes". Eigentlich ein Bravourstück für die Violine, das der gerade erst 20 Jahre alt gewordene Bryan Cheng aber nicht minder virtuos auf seinem Cello spielt – als Abschluss eines gelungenen musikalischen Ausflugs auf die iberische Halbinsel.

Europäisch

Aufgenommen wurde das Album in hervorragender Qualität in der Berliner Jesus Christus Kirche. Der transparente, luftige Klang passt hervorragend zum sommerlichen Repertoire, das die Geschwister Cheng hier wieder sehr stilsicher interpretieren – wie schon beim Debütalbum "Violoncelle français", bei dem vor zwei Jahren ausschließlich französische Komponisten aufgenommen wurden.

Egal, welches Land sich die beiden kanadischen Musiker für ihre nächste Europareise aussuchen werden – man kann sich jetzt schon darauf freuen.