Zurück in die Kindheitstage der Klarinette: Die Mannheimer Schule entdeckt sie...

Man entdeckt bei jedem Hören neue Facetten dieser wunderbaren Musik und ihrer nicht minder wunderbaren Interpretation.

'Formulae, somewhat wearily manipulated … evidence of the composer' s declining powers.' Poor Schumann! His G minor Piano Trio, the third of three, has come in for a lot of stick over the years. Joan Chissell was the doyenne of Schumann commentators in her day, the authoritative author of the book on the composer in the respected Master Musicians series. In those days, critics did not shrink from passing judgement de haut en bas on works they considered sub-standard. Some of the other verdicts one can read, on this same piece, are the reproach that it is too dominated by the middle register of each instrument, and congested as a result in terms of its textures; also that the working out of some of the material is laboured and predictable. That glimpse of a fugue in the finale, for instance.

Maybe there is some truth in all this; one might concede that Op. 110 is not quite the equal of its two fine predecessors, even while echoing their layout and structure in many ways. Something to do with the memorability – or otherwise? – of the melodic material, something to do with a clash between public utterance and private, domestic music-making: the piano trio, that arch-Romantic genre, often seems poised on just this uneasy cusp. Still, the members of the Swiss Piano Trio, who have previously set down Opp. 63 and 80 for the same German label and evidently know and love their Schumann, seem to me to hold the balance nicely: the long opening 'Allegro' is nicely paced, not too fast but with something in reserve for the end, the inner movements (both half the length of the outer) also sure of themselves as character-pieces. The sound – the recording was made in a converted Huguenot church in Neuchâtel, last year – is agreeable, as you would perhaps hear it a few rows back, with the piano in proper perspective, i.e. not too close. Eight pages of comprehensive notes by Wolfgang Rathert offer a comprehensive survey of Schumann's chamber music, concentrating in particular on key-relationships in these trios, and are for the most part deftly translated by Viola Scheffel.

It is when Op. 110 is set against the Op. 88 Phantasiestücke for the same combination that one scratches one's head, again. Despite the high opus number these 'Fantasy Pieces' date in essence from 1842. And though the four pieces certainly don't suggest an organic Trio – the long and lively 'Humoreske' in the middle for a start would upset the balance of the movements – I can't help the entirely subjective feeling that the composer's inspiration was indeed burning rather brighter here. The short opening 'Romanze' and the upbeat march-like finale have that indefinable something that all lovers of this composer will recognize: something to do with energy and uplift, is it, or the arc of the melodies?

By way of further contrast, the Swiss Piano Trio opts to let husband and wife go head to head by putting Clara's sole example of the genre – in the same key as her husband's, be it noted – as the first item on the release. It can certainly stand the scrutiny and there are plenty of original touches: for instance, the second movement is a scherzo but in the manner of a minuet, and in it, the trio section indulges in some Baroque-style dotted rhythms. The players respect the 'Allegretto' marking of the finale, even while recognizing that it is a vigorous piece, complete with predictable fugato, that benefits from a firm hand on the tiller. Clara's G minor Trio dates from 1846, Robert's from 1851. I sense no rivalry at work, only the desire to write good music. In their own way each succeeded, and it is good to have their vision as nicely represented as it is here.

Voici la réédition, en un coffret de six CD, de ce qui fut naguère présenté en six SACD groupés par deux. Incluant l'ensemble des pièces de jeunesse et l'oeuvre pour harmonium (jouée à l'orgue), la somme de Hans-Eberhard Ross est sans rivale pour l'exhaustivité.

A la réécoute, presque sept ans après, les qualités de l'orgue contemporain de Memmingen (à l'exception du Grand Choeur) nous saisissent encore dans ce répertoire réputé inaccessible à d'autres instruments que ceux de Cavaillé-Coll. On reste emporté par l'enthousiasme de l'interprétation dans les pièces de jeunesse et celles de la maturité. Dans les pages tardives, des précipitations occasionnelles (Deuxième Choral et une tendance à trop marquer les répétitions de notes, au détriment du cantabile, nous gêne toujours. Mais, avec le recul, nous préférons nous laisser aller au bel élan imprimé par Ross, et donner à cette somme la moyenne haute qu'elle mérite amplement.

L'abbatiale de Muri in Aargau est fameuse pour ses tombeaux des Habsbourg (la dynastie est originaire de cette région de Suisse allemande), et pour la splendeur de son style rococo: elle oppose quatre somptueuses tribunes aux quatre coins de sa nef carrée, avec deux orgues rutilants de Joseph et Victor Ferdinand Bossart (1743).

Cette particularité architecturale, on l'aura deviné, est propice aux grands dialogues baroques à plusieurs choeurs. Johannes Strobl a saisi l'occasion en fondant en 2002 un ensemble vocal professionnel associé à l'édifice, la Cappella Murensis, souvent partenaire de l'excellent groupe de cornets et sacqueboutes formé par Gebhard David en 1997. Deux violonistes se joignent à eux, dont l'admirable Amandine Beyer, qui illumine la Canzon VIII de Gabrieli.

Le programme réunit diverses compositions polychorales extraites des Symphoniae sacrae (1597), Canzoni et Sonate (1615) de Giovanni Gabrieli, des Psaumes de David (1619) et des Symphoniarum sacrarum (III, 1650) de Heinrich Schütz. Le rapprochement des deux musiciens est habituel: le Saxon était venu étudier à Venise une première fois auprès de Gabrieli entre 1609 et 1613, avant d'y retourner en 1629 pour côtoyer le «père de la musique moderne», Monteverdi. Lintérêt de ce disque réside principalement dans une spatialisation spectaculaire (que goûteront essentiellement les audiophiles équipés du matériel adapté au dispositif multicanal SACD). Deux orgues positifs s'ajoutent aux deux orgues historiques. Ainsi, deux ensembles de solistes vocaux et instrumentaux sont opposés à deux cappellae instrumentales plus profuses. L'effet est impressionnant. Certes, les voix paraissent parfois dominées par les cuivres dans les tutti, mais le recours à des favoriti solistes placé au devant du dispositif sonore garantit la plupart du temps une bonne intelligibilité du texte, et une plus grande lisibilité de la polyphonie. Bref, cet enregistrement rutilant tient toutes les promesses de son titre.

Im Frühjahr 1891 kommt es in Meiningen zur schicksalhaften Begegnung zwischen Brahms und Richard Mühlfeld (1856 bis 1907), dem Soloklarinettisten der Hofkapelle. „... Man kann nicht schöner blasen, als es der hiesige Mühlfeld tut“, schreibt er an Clara Schumann. In unmittelbarer Folge entstehen das Trio a-Moll op. 114 für Klarinette, Violoncello und Klavier und das Quintett h-Moll op. 115 für Klarinette und Streichquartett sowie 1894 die beiden Sonaten für Klarinette und Klavier f-Moll und Es-Dur op. 120. Die vier Meisterwerke stellen einen Höhepunkt in der Geschichte der Klarinettenliteratur dar. Trotzdem sind Produktionen wie die vorliegende, die die Stücke quasi aus einem Guss vereinen, erstaunlicherweise selten. Die gebürtige Spanierin und heutige Frankfurter Klarinettenprofessorin Laura Ruiz Ferreres erweist sich vor allem in tonlich-technischer Hinsicht als würdige Mühlfeld-Nachfahrin. Das klingt ausnahmslos bezaubernd schön, ausgeglichen und spielerisch-elegant. Musikalisch werden nicht alle Ausdrucksmöglichkeiten ausgeschöpft. Hier kommen dann auch die Mitstreiter ins Spiel. So agiert der Cellist Danjulo Ishizaka durchgehend sehr zurückhaltend "hinter" der Klarinette, woran die Aufnahmetechnik nicht ganz unschuldig ist. Wie auch im Quintett vor allem die Mehrkanalversion mit hallig-verschwimmendem Klangbild wenig überzeugt. Hier finden zudem das bestens eingespielte Mandelring-Quartett und die Klarinettistin musikalisch kaum zueinander. Als idealer Partner erweist sich sowohl im Trio als auch den beiden Sonaten Pianist Christoph Berner. Die beiden Sonaten gerieten denn auch insgesamt am überzeugendsten.

Das allzu intensive interpretatorische Engagement scheint die beabsichtigte Wirkung immer dann zu verfehlen, wenn es sich geradezu aufdrängt und die Musik mit einer Emphase belädt, die ihr kaum entspricht und zusteht. Das ist bei Schickedanz' Einspielung der Sonate Nr. 1 für Violine solo op. 33 der Fall, die freilich mit ihrer Dauer von fast 34 Minuten alle herkömmlichen Dimensionen sprengen will. Diese Sonate von 1925 ist ein ehrgeiziges Werk, mit dem sich der junge Krenek unverkennbar mit den Solosonaten und Partiten von Bach, Reger oder Schnabel messen will. Doch wirkt die Musik gewissermaßen wie "erarbeitet". Krenek bemüht sich, Tonkonfigurationen zu erfinden, die sich dann wie von selbst fortzuspinnen scheinen; doch die sich stets abzeichnende Kontinuität der Musik und die Emphase, mit der sie hier ausgespielt wird, wirken auf Dauer ermüdend, manieriert und beliebig.

Ganz anders verfährt Krenek in den weiteren Werken, die eher Züge von Spielmusiken tragen. Und in der Triophantasie op. 63 greift Krenek sogar Floskeln, Begleitfiguren oder harmonisch-rhythmische Gesten bekenntnishaft aus der Musik Schuberts auf. Hier hätte sich die sich aufdrängende interpretatorische Intensität ein wenig durch naiveres Musizieren gewissermaßen "sublimieren" lassen oder auch entspannen können. Aber die gewiss technisch makellos musizierenden Interpreten bleiben ihrer "expressionistischen" Spielhaltung treu und beladen die Musik mit "Ausdruck" – als misstrauten sie den rein musikalischen Wirkungen dieser Werke. Gleichwohl ist man dankbar, diese arg vernachlässigte Musik kennen lernen zu können; und zudem vermitteln die Einspielungen einen Eindruck von der stilistischen Vielfalt des Krenek'schen Komponierens: Das Hinhören lohnt!

Der auch im Gililov Quartett mitwirkende Christoph Schickedanz erweist sich als besonnener und feinsinniger Gestalter, der – begleitet von Holger Spegg und Mathias Beyer-Karlshoj – auch in der Triophantasie op. 63 zu ergreifenden Kantilenen ausholen und viel Witz in kleinsten Details entfalten kann.

Just as Mozart was inspired, toward the end of his short life, by a clarinettist, so Brahms, near the end of his, and after his self-imposed retirement from composing, was seduced by the playing of another. Richard Mühlfeld had entered the Meiningen Court Orchestra as a violinist, but he later taught himself to play what was still a relatively new instrument, and his skill as a clarinettist seems to have been at least one of the factors that stimulated Brahms into returning to composition.

Brahms wrote four works for the clarinet, all of which are to be found on these two discs. The Trio and Quintet were both completed during the summer of 1891. The wonderfuI series of short, solo piano works (Opp. 116-19) followed, after which Brahms composed the two sonatas, a form that barely existed previously. By turns lyrical and dramatic, the Trio, Op. 114 lacks both the autumnal quality of the Quintet and the sombre melancholy of much of the piano music that was to follow. The first movement is as notable for the intricacy of its structure and its mastery of instrumental timbre as it is for the beauty of its themes. Wonders abound, though, not least the magical way Brahms harnesses a series of scales to bring about the close of the movement. The nocturnal slow movement is not without its darker moments; it is followed by a waltz-like scherzo. The finale is rapid, sometimes turbulent, and with more than a trace of Hungarian folk influence. In spite of all this energy the work ends firmly in the minor key.

The Quintet, one of the glories of the chamber music repertoire, has proved the more popular work. It opens with four bars of music for the strings which provide much of the thematic material of the movement. The clarinet melody that follows is directly derived from this, and has something of the improvisatory quality of the late piano pieces. The work as a whole, despite the forces required, shares their intimacy and inward quality. There is certainly a feeling of the composer looking back in this work, though Brahms was such an 'absolute' composer that is seems presumptuous to suggest this. Yet the clarinet's imitation of a Hungarian gypsy instrument in the middle section of the slow movement is surely part of it, and the masterly return, totally natural and inevitable, of the opening theme at the end of the work makes for music that is as poignant as any you are likely to hear.

The focal point of this collection is the Spanish clarinettist Laura Ruiz Ferreres. Photos of her are given pride of place in the packaging, but she needs no special pleading, as she is a superb player. All the attributes of a fine clarinettist are there – agility, lovely woody tone in the lower register, rising through a rich middle to a piercing top – and these are allied with a most satisfying musical sense. She is joined in the sonatas by pianist Christoph Berner, who plays alongside cellist Danjulo Ishizaka in the Trio. I can do no better than to say that they make a most unified team. The Mandelring Quartett has made several recordings for Audite and its performance of the Quintet maintains previous high standards. The performance underlines Brahms's skill in integrating a wind instrument into the sound of a string quartet, with textures beautifully balanced and each instrumentalist aware of his or her role in the ensemble. Pacing is just right too, with a global view of the work that leads to a particularly successful performance of the sometimes problematical finale, and a most moving final coda. The performance cannot efface memories of one or two classic performances from the past – why should it? – but a previously admired performance, live, from Sabine Meyer and the Alban Berg Quartet now seems bland by comparison.

The first movement of the F minor Sonata is marked 'Allegro appassionato' and there is certainly plenty of passion in this performance. This is very expressive playing, emphasizing the romantic over the classical. Both players are very faithful to the score, and their feeling for the music comes across powerfully whilst remaining apparently spontaneous. The final appearance of the main theme of the slow movement is played in exquisite piano by Ruiz Ferreres. Only in the scherzo did I occasionally feel that a slightly more affectionate approach to phrasing might have paid dividends, though I prefer to draw attention to the way in which the clarinettist delivers the subtle tracery that is the accompanying passages whilst at the same time investing the notes with real meaning and purpose. The finale sets off at a cracking pace and the high spirits – Brahmsian high spirits, that is – are tossed off with utter conviction.

The glorious opening melody of the E flat major Sonata is delivered in Ruiz Ferreres's most singing tone and it is perfectly matched at the piano by Berner. The whole movement is a most successful realization of Brahms's charming tempo indication, 'Allegro amabile', with a particularly touching tranquillo close. The middle movement goes splendidly, its central section properly sombre and almost church-like. The gurgling, liquid sound from the clarinet in the third variation in the finale is another high spot of this outstanding performance, one of four that can be confidently recommended.

It's good to have two new sets of the Brahms Piano Trios, and though both are described as 'The Complete Piano Trios', the contents of each one is different. The Trio Testore set includes the early and the revised versions of the B major Trio, Op. 8, along with the two other trios for piano, violin and cello. The Smetana Trio includes only the revision of Op. 8, but its Supraphon set adds the trios with horn and clarinet. Only one recent set know brings all of these together: the Gould Piano Trio includes both versions of Op. 8, the Trios, Opp. 87 and 101 and the Horn and Clarinet Trios; it even adds the spurious (but beautiful) A major Piano Trio in an invaluable box of three discs.

Let me try to summarize the qualities of the two new sets. The first thing to say about the Trio Testore set is that it has been exceptionally well recorded by Audite: a really natural sound caught in an ideal acoustic. But while this ensemble's collective sonority is often beautiful, there is a tendency to micro-manage the expressiveness of the music: this is highly nuanced playing and, while flexibility is certainly an admirable trait in Brahms performances, I find these players prone to over-shape phrases: they are apparently reluctant to let the music speak for itself. The Trio Testore is also inclined to take its time in places: the first movement of the B major Trio – especially in its original version – is arguably a little too expansive for its own good in this performance. Having said that, there is much to enjoy in the playing: it's heartfelt, sophisticated, affectionate and polished. The snag – to my ears at least – is that it all feels a little too self-conscious, and this can rob the music of some of its tensile strength in, for example, the first movement of the C major Trio. Collectors looking for new recordings of these works might respond more positively than I did to the Trio Testore's elegantly sculpted approach, so I'd certainly suggest having a listen: this is an imaginative ensemble captured in superb sound.

The Smetana Trio is a different matter. This is a very fine set marked by passionate, big-hearted and exciting playing. It has none of what – to me – is the rather fussy overexpressiveness of the Trio Testore, but it is red-blooded and eloquent. Among other things, I like the quite swift 'Andante con moto' second movement of the C major Trio (more than a minute quicker than the Trio Testore and a little swifter than the Goulds) and all the way through I greatly enjoyed the controlled energy and warmth of these performances. I know I'll return to them many times in the future: these players have a wonderful sense of musical line and a collective sense of musical direction that is powerful and engrossing.

So is either of these new releases a Brahms trio cycle to own? While I've my doubts about the Trio Testore, I'd say a most definite 'yes' in the case of the Smetana Trio: there is spontaneous engagement with the music and such a heroic sweep to the playing. Moreover, the clarinet and horn soloists are extremely fine as well (Ludmila Peterková's clarinet playing in the Op. 114 Trio is absolutely magical), and all five performances are of very high quality. The recording is a little boxy compared with Audite's sound but it's eminently acceptable and the musical rewards are compelling.

The Smetana Trio is thus at or near the top of my short-list of relatively recent recordings of these glorious works, but so, too, are the discs by the Gould Piano Trio – available in a three-disc set at a special price that includes both incarnations of Op. 8 and the A major Trio as well as all the works in the Supraphon set. Comparing the performances of these two ensembles makes me very glad to have both: the Smetana Trio is sometimes more muscular, a little more grainy and – unsurprisingly – more Central European in its approach, while the Goulds have a transparency and litheness that are vastly appealing. I’ve not discussed classic accounts by the likes of the Beaux Arts Trio (Decca), the Stern-Rose-lstomin Trio (Sony) or the Trio di Trieste (DG), all of which belong in a comprehensive collection of Brahms chamber music on record. So, too, do the younger generation of Brahmsians, now so impressively represented by the Gould Piano Trio and the Smetana Trio.