The recorded sound is warm, lucid and realistic. There is more to come in this series and I look forward to it.

Audite vollbringt mit der Veröffentlichung von 12 randvollen CDs mit den erhaltenen frühen Berliner Aufnahmen des Wunderdirigenten „Celi“ eine editorische Großtat. [...] Die CDs sollten für das UNESCO-Weltkulturerbe nominiert werden.

Mit seiner fulminanten Brahms-CD hat das Trio Testore sich selber die Latte sehr hochgelegt und dementsprechende Erwartungen geweckt, denen es mit dieser Rachmaninov-Tchaikovsky-Einspielung vollauf gerecht wird.

Das Programm vereint zwei untypische Klaviertrios, die im Grunde Gedenkmusiken sind. Rachmaninows erstes Trio élégiaque hat keinen bestimmten Adressaten. Tchaikovsky hat sein Klaviertrio mit Variationensatz seinem langjährigen Förderer und Weggefährten Nikolai Rubinstein gewidmet – ‘à la mémoired’un grand artiste’. Beiden Werken ist die melancholische Grundstimmung gemein, die das Trio Testore mit packender Intensität wiedergibt, ohne übermäßig pathetisch zu werden und in die Karikatur abzugleiten. Schon der schwebende, nahezu mysteriöse Einstieg ins Rachmaninov-Trio läßt die tiefe Emotionalität erahnen, die uns erwartet. Während uns bei Rachmaninov die lyrisch-nachfühlende gesangliche Ausgestaltung des Hauptthemas fesselt, ist es bei Tchaikovsky die poetische Melancholie.

Das Trio Testore musiziert auf kammermusikalisch höchstem Niveau. Es ist ein organisches Musizieren, intensiv im Ausdruck und klar in der Gestaltung auch kleinster musikalischer Elemente, ein Musizieren, das den Zuhörer mit einbindet, auch wenn die letzte Note schon lange verklungen ist.

The technicaly outstanding Trio Testore plays the two basically melancholic compositions with packing intensity without being caricatural.

Each volume of this evolving Beethoven quartet cycle from the Quartetto di Cremona usefully encompasses works from all three creative phases of the composer's life. Nowhere else in his oeuvre, save perhaps in the piano sonatas, can the listener experience at first hand Beethoven's novel technical and expressive advances being brought into such sharp relief across a range of works in a Single genre.

With this new SACD release, Volume in Audite's series , that creative evolution and attendant polarization of form and ideas seems even more startling than before. The reason for this is no t hard to determine; the programme combines the tersely belligerent C minor Quartet from the Op. 18 group with the Grosse Fuge and the first of the middle period 'Razumovsky' Quartets, Op. 59. It would be hard to cherry-pick a more challenging or more representative group from among Beethoven's quartets, making this compilation particularly appealing, one imagines, to anybody for whom these works might still be terra incognita.

However, so far, this series has had mixed fortunes. Variable performances from the Cremona Quartet haven't always lived up to the expectations their heritage seems to have conferred upon them, as perceived successors to the illustrious Quartetto ltaliano. Consequently in an already oversubscribed field, these accounts probably won't be the ones most of us would choose to live with, despite much that's entirely praiseworthy: the highlight here is an ardent account of Op. 59 No. 1 that seems to me to be the finest individual performance I've heard so far in the Cremona Quartet's cycle.

The C minor Quartet, Op. 18 No. 4, owes much to the minor-key works of Haydn, in particular to the second in the Op. 76 set, the D minor Quartet popularly known as the 'Fifths'. Speeds are invigorating; and with bristling attack and mercurial Mediterranean passions simmering away, this was always going to be an exciting account! Yet there are moments which don't quite come off, particularly in the Andante, and the tiered dynamics and syncopated abruptness of the Menuetto find these players in less than full accord, though the finale goes very well indeed.

In the Grosse Fuge climaxes are reached too soon, motorically and expressively, and amid this torrential onrush, the team begins to flag well before the music has run its course. This proved a considerable disappointment, particularly when compared to the superlative account from the Belcea Quartet, whose visionary playing of all these works has raised the bar in the interpretation of the Beethoven string quartets by several notches in the recent past.

Finally things begin to go well, however, and the Quartetto di Cremona ends Volume 3 of its Beethoven cycle in fine style, with a thoroughly assured performance of the first 'Razumovsky' Quartet. If the playing cannot match the overall tonal cohesion of the Belceas, this is a solidly reliable reading nonetheless, which ticks most, though not quite all, of the right boxes. The biggest problem you'll detect at the outset is the somewhat anonymous character of the playing. Certainly the opening movement goes well for the most part, though the cello's introduction of the 'Eroica'-like first subject seems to lack something in presence and character, whereas the Belceas sound altogether more intrepid and purposeful. The Cremonas need time really to find their feet here, but when they do, there's crisply alert ensemble playing and a genuinely convincing sense of teamwork which hasn't always been so much in evidence previously.

The pointed Scherzo hasn't quite the metrical rigour of the Belceas' version, and dynamics are not so strongly attenuated, but this impression may well derive from the recording, made in a fairly reverberant auditorium, than to any particular shortcomings in the playing itself. The slow movement brings moments of heart-rending expressivity, however, and these players are at their impressive best when they allow the music to unfold at its own natural pace; the transition into the Russian•inspired finale, one of the most dangerous and unpredictable passages in Op. 59 No. 1, is nicely managed too.

Audite's production is never sonically the equal of Zig-Zag's exceptional Belcca Quartet recordings, but the sound is bright and well balanced. With Michael Struck-Schloen's informative booklet notes to hand, this is much the best disc in this series to date.

Claudio Abbado à Lucerne, avant la recréation de l'Orchestre du Festival, mais à la tête de deux formations importantes dans sa trajectoire. Les Wiener Philharmoniker d'abord, pour l'« Inachevée » (5 Septembre 1978). Cette exécution aux merveilleuses couleurs, d'une tenue immaculée, révèle un Abbado soucieux de s'inscrire dans le style et la tradition propres des Viennois, ce qu'il réussit d'ailleurs à merveille (la discipline dynamique et expressive des phrasés des cordes, la densité des violoncelles et contrebasses). La différence très mince de mouvement entre Allegro moderato et Andante con moto accentue cette unité en rien « inachevée », privilégiée par nombre de ses aînés austro-allemands. Il y a du drame (parti des basses, il imprègne les apogées) dans cette lecture supérieurement construite, dépourvue de tout laxisme dans la tension et les attaques. Mais qui affiche en définitive un romantisme pacifié.

Dans la Symphonie n° 2 de Beethoven (25 août 1988), Abbado semble au contraire vouloir inculquer les règles bien comprises du classicisme viennois aux jeunes musiciens du Chamber Orchestra of Europe. Elan, motricité (les attaques des violoncelles et contrebasses), netteté des accents et de l'articulation: voilà une gravure pleine de fraîcheur, un peu appuyée parfois dans le Larghetto – avec la même formation, Nikolaus Harnoncourt devait très vite aller plus loin encore.

Issu du même concert, Siegfried Idyll n'évoque ni les frémissements à fleur de peau d'un Walter, ni l'émotion d'un Knappertsbusch. Mais une élégie idéale et cristalline, en apesanteur, dont la subtile plasticité orchestrale est empreinte d'une sensibilité réservée – à bien y réfléchir, cette légère distanciation imprègne toutes ces lectures (inédites), fût-ce de façon délicatement différente. Le son est splendide de vérité et de présence.

This is the third and final volume of the complete recordings of the Vierne symphonies played by Hans-Eberhard Roß on the 1998 Goll organ of St Martin Kirche, Memmingen, and it fully maintains the high standards set in the first two issues. This now becomes an important and in some ways unique set of performances, for, as outlined in my earlier reviews (in January and December 2013), whilst the use of this organ might go against the ideals of some purists (as the works themselves were in part inspired by the Cavaillé-Coll masterpiece in Notre-Dame, where Vierne was organist), with music of this significance one cannot insist that these works should only be played on one particular instrument. The Goll organ reflects many of the important Cavaillé-Coll characteristics, and the acoustic of St Martin has – as recorded here – a more remarkable clarity than Notre-Dame.

The clarity, rather than atmosphere, is important also, for as we have noted before, the textual accuracy of these scores is not something to be laid down beyond dispute. Viern’s eyesight was poor, and it deteriorated significantly as he got older: consequently, he was unable to check the page proofs from his publishers, and the Braille music notation he used was itself in certain instances unclear. In addition, there are various surviving copies of the first editions which were altered at the time of publication, or soon afterwards, by several of Vierne's pupils, presumably in accordance with his wishes.

We are fortunate today in that there have been two recent editions of these symphonies which are about as accurate as we can get, each the product of considerable erudition: the more recent is from Bärenreiter, edited by Helga Schauerte-Maubouet, which has appeared a few years after the Carus-Sanger-Laukvik edition. It is this latter edition that Roß favours – but not entirely, for he has added to the scholarship of the Carus publications with further research from Günther Kaunzinger, a pupil of Duruflé, himself a pupil of Vierne.

Roß contributes an important corollary to the excellent booklet notes by Rüdiger Heinze , on his choice of registration and the edition on which his interpretations are based. The specialist and organ enthusiast will want to have these important clarifications, but it is the fine nature of Roß's performances that will command the greatest interest. In terms of tempos, he is ideal; an important characteristic, this, in the case of the Fifth Symphony, Vierne's largest (almost 40 minutes) and in many ways most personal work. By the time he came to conceive this work (c. 1924), ten years after the Fourth, Vierne's life had continued on its downward journey with a succession of misfortunes and tragedies that would have felled a less-strong character – and almost did, in his case.

Consequently, in this work Vierne has become more inward-looking, the language more tortured in its concentration upon an intense chromaticism at times, a tonal fluidity, that may be considered a consequence of Franckian innovation to which Vierne turned to express his inner bitterness and resignation. But the artist reigns supreme: this music has an intensity of expression that demands clarity from the interpreter, and in this important instance the Goll organ is an ideal choice, especially in the quality of these recordings. Roß's unfolding of the initial tortuous line that opens the Symphony is magnificent and deeply expressive, and throughout he gives a performance of considerable distinction.

By the time of the Sixth Symphony ( 1930) Vierne was seemingly reconciled to his fate: the bitterness and anguish of the Fifth has gone, replaced by a contemplative character that, in the great Adagio movement, approaches the majesty of Bruckner. This is followed by an astonishing finale – full of energy, in which earlier material is subsumed into a remarkably positive edifice of sound. Once again, in this wonderful final Symphony, Roß is deeply impressive; his tempos and choice of mixtures are well-nigh ideal: in many ways, Roß follows those known to have been used by the composer, but he is not afraid to change them when the musical argument demands a greater clarity.

All in all, this is – as I hope to have indicated – an impressive series of recordings, each of which has to be counted amongst the best yet issued, and for many this will be the first choice when seeking to investigate a truly important set of works.

It should be obvious from the list of selected comparisons that Bluebeard's Castle is a work that has done extremely well on record: the classic Kertész recording sounds amazingly good for its age, and Ludwig and Berry are an engrossing pair of soloists. I can't make any useful comment on their sung Hungarian except to say that it sounds credible, but in terms of singing they are both magnificent, and Ludwig has one of the best top Cs of anyone at the opening of the Fifth Door. The Fischer recording, originally on Philips but reissued (and superbly remastered) by Channel Classics, is probably the outstanding modern version in Hungarian, with two involving and idiomatic soloists. The recording in English by Sally Burgess and John Tomlinson, with the Opera North Orchestra conducted by Richard Fames, is another striking success – and hearing such a conversational opera sung in English is pretty much all gain as far as I'm concerned. I want to have it in Hungarian too, of course, but listening to it in English adds a degree of dramatic involvement that makes the whole experience even more intense – not least because this is also such a well-sung and well-played performance too, conducted with blazing commitment and attention to detail by Farnes.

So where does this newcomer – in fact more than half a century old – fit into the scheme of things? Recorded live at the Lucerne Festival in 1962, it's sung in German, which may put some people off, but honestly doesn't worry me when the singing has such conviction. Second, it has the benefit of Rafael Kubelik's conducting. Devotees of this piece may know his live recording made in 1981 with the New York Philharmonic with Tatiana Troyanos and Sigmund Nimsgern (it was included in a box of broadcast performances issued by the orchestra). He's a wonderful conductor of this work: never overdoing the drama, but underlining the turning points with the utmost sensitivity and an acute ear for telling details – and his sense of dramatic timing and pacing is unerring.

Then there's the singing: Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau is on magnificent form, bringing a kind of world-weary resignation to Bluebeard's ever more chilling revelations, and doing so in resonant voice. There's no barking or hectoring, but some very clear diction and complete involvement in the role. lrmgard Seefried is rather an unexpected choice of Judith. A stunning Mozart and Strauss singer, she’s not always comfortable in this role – and, be warned, her top C is a sort of strangled shriek. And yet, the sense that she is in a situation from which there can be no escape is tangible, and terrifying. Her singing near the end has devastating poignancy. Incidentally, the spoken prologue is omitted.

The Swiss Festival Orchestra plays admirably and the broadcast sound is acceptable – it has been very carefully restored by audite for this release. The notes include an interesting essay on the performance, but the absence of a libretto is to be regretted. What matters more than the language or the slightly boxy sound is the tangible intensity of this Bluebeard's Castle, and that makes it a version that really has to be heard.

Das Thibaud Trio, das vor allem in den USA auftritt, erweist sich als eingespieltes Team mit kernig-offenem Klang.

“Jesting Fortune” or, better, “Fortune the Joker”. Its challenges and vicissitudes are an eternal theme for poets and musicians. Here we are given eight examples of settings by four different German Baroque composers of texts reflecting on this theme, with its opposing forces of hope and happiness.
The least-known of the four is Johann Ulich (1677–1741), a North-German composer most of whose output was lost in World War II. But a fortunate (pun?) survival is his cantata Ihr Hellen Sterne des Glucks (You Bright Stars of Happiness), the longest item in the program.
The best-known composer, on the other hand, is Georg Philipp Telemann (1681–1761), who is represented by no less than three early cantatas, which survive under his early penname, Melante—a scrambling of the letters of his surname. The title of one becomes the album’s title. Another is titled Hoffnung (Hope), and a third is called Amor Heisst mich Freudig Lachen (Love has me laughing joyfully).
Johann Philipp Krieger (1629–1727), the earliest of the gang, contributes a brief song, ‘An die Einsamkeit’ (To Loneliness).
Much of Philipp Heinrich Erlebach’s (1657–1714) output, like Ulich’s, was destroyed by disaster. From a surviving collection of secular songs we are given three, short strophic pieces whose melodic charm particularly pleased me.
But there is a lot of tuneful and expressive music in all the items here. They are given thoughtful performances by Siedlaczek. She has a light, flexible voice and cares about what she sings. My only reservation is that her piping, almost soubrette-like sound can become a little wearing if you listen without interruption to the entire program.
Still, a very interesting exploration of previously unrecorded by ways of Baroque German vocal music, modest in scale and intimate in expression. The three members of the crack ensemble give predictably sensitive support. Good notes; full German texts but no translations.

There’s no shortage of bite or energy in the third instalment of the Cremona Quartet’s survey of Beethoven’s string quartets. The instruments speak with crisp articulation and the players don’t hold back in terms of vigour. This often makes for thrilling listening.