Audite has released Hans Knappertsbusch: The Complete RIAS Recordings, a...

Igor Stravinsky set Persephone (1933, revised 1949) to a French text by poet Andre Gide, which was in turn based on the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. The partnership of composer and librettist was not smooth, mainly because the two disagreed on how to set Gide’s text to music. Gide skipped the premiere, while Stravinsky went on to make two rather indifferent recordings of the work. Even today, Persephone lurks on the sidelines of his canon. For that and other reasons, the present recording is a fascinating document. Fritz Wunderlich was one of the greatest German tenors before falling down some stairs to his death six years after this performance. This would be his only performance of Eumolpius (Greek for “he who sings beautifully”), and it caught him at the height of his powers. Doris Schade was, and is, as far as I know, a highly respected German actress. Dean Dixon was an American conductor driven by American racism to make a career in Europe. At the time of this performance, he was ending his tenure as Music Director of the Gothenburg Symphony and preparing to take over the Hessian Radio Symphony (Frankfurt Radio). His appointment was resented in some quarters, but this Persephone was so well received that any serious opposition was neutralized. Dixon remained Music Director until 1974. The major recordings of Persephone are from Michael Tilson Thomas, Robert Craft, and Kent Nagano, with Thomas getting the nod in our Stravinsky Overview, Craft a strong second, and Nagano a too soft-textured third. (We don’t recommend either of the slower Stravinskys.) All are played in a more or less French style, and all tend to project the work as an airy, refined, and classical exercise. Dixon’s take is very different. It does not sound French in any way. In fact, the text is delivered entirely in German, which lends the music earthiness and a powerful dramatic backbone. (It was not unusual for Europeans of that time to perform foreign works—and dub foreign movies—in their native languages.) The German orchestra adds Teutonic flavors of broader brass and woodwind attacks, fuller string textures, and less pungent harmonies. There is also less bounce to the rhythm, less arch to upper melodic leaps, and more melodic lyricism. The choruses sound broad and warm, save for a bit of attractive boisterousness from the children. Wunderlich’s Eumolpius is heroic, sympathetic, and to some extent larger than life. I would expect Persephone to be seductive and fresh-sounding, not to mention young; but Schade turns in a highly theatrical, perhaps overstated, reading. It may be just as well. A girlish Persephone could have been steamrolled by Wunderlich, and that never happens to Schade. Dixon’s moderate tempo is faster than Stravinsky’s, slower than Craft’s, and about the same as Thomas’s. The result is a gripping, earthy drama, full of pain, sacrifice, loss, and reconciliation. This is a Persephone of flesh and blood people, not gods. It may be just the thing for people who have found the work too effete, austere, or precious. Except for forward placement of the soloists that makes them sound larger than life, the monaural sound is outstanding. Audite’s notes supply insight into the participants and the circumstances but inexplicably fail to include a German-English libretto. The German text was produced for this performance and is not likely to be found in the booklet of another recording. (It is also slightly cut, this being the 1949 version.) Still, it is possible to follow the story with a standard French-English. I point out the obvious when I say that 49 minutes is hardly a generous time. Fans of Wunderlich and Dixon (whose recordings are rare) should find this hard to resist. Admirers of Persephone and even people who have had doubts about the piece should be interested as well.

Schumann’s ‘organ’ works are well represented on record. The three almost consecutive opuses make an attractive collection and fit neatly onto a CD. Their paucity must be a frustration for organists, elegant as the works are, and representing a potentially impressive talent for idiomatic organ writing. All the works have been arranged for multiple pianos or for chamber ensembles, in some cases many times, demonstrating their popularity beyond the organ loft.

In the case of opp. 56 and 58, even organ performance is a re-appropriation, as the music was originally composed for pedal piano, a fact rarely acknowledged in CD titles and so all the more creditable for being so described here. That could lead to a potential disappointment for listeners hoping for a taste of this exotic instrument, although the early 19th century Walcker organ on which the music is played is interesting enough in its own right, especially as it is almost contemporaneous with the music.

A recording is available of the two works performed on a pedal piano, the adventurous pianist being Martin Schmeding (ARS 38 011). The comparison is interesting, in that one work, the Op.56 Studies, transfers very well to the organ, while the other, the Op.58 Sketches, relies much more heavily on pianistic textures. The opening of the Op.58 is all staccato chords, never an ideal texture for the organ. Later textures use tremolo effects in the right hand over a melody in the left hand and pedals, again a specifically pianistic texture. On the other hand, Schumann’s dynamics are simple and stepped, allowing the organist to switch between manuals to distinguish answering phrases, for example.

Rothkopf never tries to make the organ sound like a piano. Much of the music is written in long legato lines, for which he can rely on the smoothness of the organ sound and the church resonance, which is always evident on the recording but not to the detriment of the clarity of articulation.

Both the Op.58 Studies and the Six Fugues on the Name BACH, are products of a brief but intense period of Schumann’s life when he became obsessed with the study of strict counterpoint. This makes the instrumentation less relevant, because, as with much of Bach’s keyboard music, the counterpoint plays out in long melodic lines that transfer well between instruments.

Bach is an abiding presence in both works, and not just on account of his name running through the themes of Op.60. The Op.56 studies bear strong stylistic resemblances to much of Bach’s organ music. Many of the themes imitate the ways in which Bach made music playable on the pedal board, such as alternating between a stationary note on one foot and a scale passage on the other.

The idea of fugues based on the BACH cipher seems old hat these days, not least because of the similar works by Liszt and Reger, but in their day they were revolutionary. However, I would have to say that 30 minutes of contrapuntal music based on a single four-note theme can tend towards monotony. True enough, Bach succeeded spectacularly in both The Musical Offering and The Art of Fugue to maintain the interest purely through contrapuntal ingenuity in long monothematic works. It is no discredit to Schumann to say that his skills in this respect don’t quite match up to those of his hero.

The performance of these three works is very fine. As befits what are essentially studies in counterpoint, Andreas Rothkopf never attempts to spice up the textures with unusual or rapidly changing registrations. The recording was made in 1987, some 13 years after the restoration of the 1846 instrument. It sounds in fine condition, excellently tuned and balanced and with no audible tracker noise. In general, it is quite a soft-sounding instrument, all warm, woody tones, which I personally find very attractive.

Good recorded audio too, especially given that it dates from the mid-1980s. The microphones are set quite close, I think, or I assume from the subdued resonance of the church. This is not an SACD by the way, despite what you may read elsewhere on the net, but the recording date alone should make that obvious.

This music isn’t the sexiest that Schumann ever wrote, but it is a valuable contribution to the organ repertoire, not to mention the pedal piano repertoire. This reissue coincides with Schumann’s anniversary year. The record labels have so far done a great job of demonstrating the incredible diversity of his art. He is not really known as an organ composer, and what a shame he did not write more music for the instrument, given the quality of what is on offer here.

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Hideyo Harada zählt zu jenen immer seltener anzutreffenden Künstlern, die sich bei ihren Einspielungen offensichtlich sehr viel Zeit nehmen, um Interpretationen von enormem musikalischen Feinschliff und größter geistiger Durchdringung vorzulegen. Nach den subtilen Miniaturen von Tschaikowskys "Jahreszeiten" überraschte die Künstlerin mit einer emphatischen Wiedergabe der C-Dur-Fantasie Schumanns und widmet sich nun zwei Werken Schuberts.

Gegen die Konkurrenz weiß sich die Künstlerin schon deshalb zu behaupten, da sie ganz eigene Akzente setzt. Zunächst ist es die schiere Schönheit ihres Spiels, das sowohl die "Wandererfantasie" als auch die Sonate in eine andere Sphäre zu transzendieren scheint. Die Rundung des Tons, die atmende Phrasierung, der klare architektonische Aufbau, das feine Gespür für Steigerungen, die konstante Wachheit: All dies fügt sich zu überzeugenden Darstellungen, die auch durch die Aufnahmetechnik und den brillanten Flügel begünstigt werden.

Die Fantasie eröffnet Harada mit echtem dramatischen Aplomb, hütet sich aber davor, die mächtigen Klanggesten zur Kraftdemonstration zu missbrauchen. Im Adagio gelingen ihr wahre Wunder an Darstellungsintensität, um die Sehnsuchtsenergien spürbar werden zu lassen. Und auch in der Sonate sind es die vielen seelisch erfüllten Momente ihres Spiels, die dem Werk über seine Schmerzlichkeit hinaus ein wärmendes Licht mitfühlender Menschlichkeit verleihen.