Karol Szymanowski collaborated with the Polish violinist Pavel Kochanski when he wrote his Myths in 1915. These are three movements: ‘The Fountain of Arethusa’, ‘Narcissus’, and ‘Dryads and Pan’. The composer and his violinist muse worked to extend the coloristic possibilities of the violin and piano duo in these works. These are some of the loveliest works written for this combination. Franziska Pietsch and Detlev Eisinger play this music beautifully, about as fine as David Oistrakh and Vladimir Yampolsky but in much better sound.

Their Franck is not as good. Pietsch again shows that she excels at lower dynamics, but like so many others, she fails to maintain the intensity needed to hold the listener’s attention through this hypnotic, half-hour-long work. The only performances I know that I cannot fault in this respect are by David Oistrakh and Sviatoslav Richter and Jacques Thibaud and Alfred Cortot (acoustic recording of 1923). Pietsch’s strength, which she demonstrates in the Szymanowski and which was the glory of her Prokofieff disc (Nov/Dec 2016), is her affinity for gestural music. Music that would benefit from a more sustained, belcanto style of tone production and phrasing, like the Franck, does not play to this strength.

Pietsch plays a violin made by Carlo Antonio Testore in 1751, and Detlev Eisinger plays a Bosendorfer piano.

Isabelle Faust and Alexander Melnikov are better in the Franck. Theirs is not the most mesmerizing account, but it is more sustained than the German duo’s. Its disc-mate is the Concert by Ernest Chausson for violin and piano with string quartet accompaniment. It is a lovely work with an autumnal mood, characteristic of the inventiveness of the time. The scoring gives it a delicate transparency. Another thing that contributes to the transparency is the use of an Erard piano from 1885. It doesn’t have the thick, assertive tone of a modern concert grand and balances the strings beautifully. Both the Sonata and the Concert were written for Eugene Ysaye, and this could account for the use of long melodic lines in the violin in both works.

Faust plays the Vieuxtemps Stradivarius violin of 1710. Good sound.

As time moves along, and it does, certain music becomes as if old friends. Nothing to take for granted, ideally a comfortable familiar that one turns to when spirits need brightening. The Prokofiev Violin Concertos (Audite 97.733) have long been that for me. The First Concerto I discovered when a Freshman in high school as a cutout in the local 5 & 10, the marvelous Szigeti version on Mercury. The Second I came to a little later, while still in high school, in the Heifetz-Boston rendition on RCA. The concertos are landmark Prokofiev, with thematic wealth and tender bitter-sweet beauty virtually unmatched in the modern repertoire for violin.

The two LP versions of the concertos long established themselves in my mind as benchmark performances that set the standard and defined for me what these works are about. As glorious as these old recordings are to me, I have in no way closed myself off to new interpretations. I am very happy that I asked to review the new recording of both concertos as played with brilliance by Franziska Pietsch and the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin under conductor Cristian Macelaru.

In the hearing and rehearing of the new versions I am captivated, from the first, with what Ms. Pietsch brings to the music. The role of the orchestra engages very much as well.

The two works, as the liners remind us, mark the beginning and the end of Prokofiev's time in exile from Russia. What that means to the music does not concern me especially right now, since the works took their shape and life took shape as two interrelated but contrasting entities.

The First Concerto is very much Russian, modern without any hesitation, with almost a folk-Gypsy intensity and a beauty that persists in the work almost in spite of itself. Pietsch does not have quite the same folkish attack as Szigeti did, but what she brings is her own, at times even more savage than Szigeti, yet too with a soaring beauty Szigeti did not quite equal. The orchestra seconds her with a heart-felt staging and a detailed balance that together are breathtaking.

The Second is perhaps a less impetuous work and one that spins out regretful lyricism in even larger doses than the first. The rendition we get from Pietsch and orchestra is not perhaps as poetic as Heifetz but on the other hand has a dynamic and an irresistible engagement that brings us the tender and molto-expressivo sides in a new balance. There is pensive fragility and a little infernal zest in perhaps more equal measure than with Heifetz.

As I listened it occurred to me that Pietsch and Berlin respond to these works now, some more than 50 years beyond the two LP versions, at a time when hindsight in no way diminishes the works in our eyes and ears, yet it is music after all that we may now more completely, collectively understand and embrace as familiars. The "brazen" modernism that the music seemed to embody years ago has not disappeared, but it has become less off-putting, more naturally heard and understood, completely comprehensible so that Pietsch and Berlin can build on what we already accept and embrace.

These remarkable Pietsch readings do not replace the Szigeti and Heifetz. They stand alongside them as equals, which is to say much. She and Macelaru-Berlin bring to us joyfully alive interpretations that remind us that the music is as much a part of today as yesterday.

It occurs to me as I immerse myself in the music again that much could be said about a kind of tribal strain that both Stravinsky and Prokofiev introduced into the early modernist project that has parallels with Picasso and his fascination with African masks and such. You can hear a primal strain in this music, too. Pietsch lets herself feel that influence and she lets us experience fully how it belongs very much to parts of both concertos.

And so I conclude the review with much more that could be said. It is unnecessary to say it here. Suffice to say what I have. Franziska Pietsch clearly dwells in the heart of the music throughout. Berlin and Macelaru craft stunning orchestral sonarities to match. There are passages that nearly bring on tears, they hit home so well.

The recording to me is another benchmark of a way to approach Prokofiev. It holds its own and so brings me to a strong recommendation. It forms an ideal introduction to these masterpieces, or for that matter new versions that deserve a place in your collection. I tell you true. This recording may well be for YOU!

They have the tone to match don’t they. Very warm, very rich and soupy, it’s lovely.

The current performance by the Ernst Senff Chor, Staatskapelle Weimar, and conductor Karabits fully embraces the music’s wild contrasts of extremes. The choral contributions are mighty: sometimes fierce, sometimes warm, always robust and precise. Much the same can be said for the orchestral playing, which is full of biting rhythms, aggressive attacks, and a wild array of colors. It says much about the interpretation, though, that the piece comes over with such cohesion, never, even in its loudest episodes, simply dissolving into noise. This is an ensemble and conductor that have the music in their blood and they proselytize for it accordingly.

After the surprise of one apparent outsider shooting to the top of the Prokofiev...

Mengelberg la dirigeant à Budapest en 1943 fut soufflé: belle fille certes,...

Diese Aufnahmen aus den Jahren 1971 bis 1982 zeigen Jorge Bolet als einen überragenden Liszt-Interpreten, dessen ebenso spannende wie virtuose und intelligent konzipierte Interpretationen bis heute nichts von ihrem Reiz eingebüßt haben.

Das Programm ist mit den beiden Klavierkonzerten, Auszügen aus den ‘Années de Pèlerinage’ und der ‘Tannhäuser’-Ouvertüre interessant zusammengesetzt.

Das Radio-Symphonie-Orchester Berlin unter der Leitung von Lawrence Foster (Klavierkonzert Nr. 1) und Edo de Waart spielt in beiden Live-Mitschnitten kraftvoll, aber nie pathetisch und passt sich jedes Mal dem Interpretationsstil Bolets optimal an. Und dieser besticht durch ein atemberaubendes Klavierspiel: virtuos, expressiv, poetisch, feinsinnig. Er beherrscht alle Schattierungen, was insbesondere in den Auszügen von ‘Italie’ aus den ‘Années de Pèlerinage’ zum Tragen kommt. Die ‘Tannhäuser’-Ouvertüre ist dann am Schluss noch ein besonderer Leckerbissen.

Klanglich ist die Produktion mit ihren fast 80 Minuten Spielzeit mehr als überzeugend, so dass man diesen phantastischen, heute leider etwas vergessenen Pianisten in absoluter Bestform hören und sein einmaliges Spiel hundertprozentig schätzen kann.

There is a lot of breathtaking piano playing on this disc. Bolet is virtuosic, expressive, poetic and subtle. The sound quality is excellent and allows the listener to fully admire the legendary pianist.

I can understand why many find Reger's music unforgiving and daunting. It took me a while to crack the hard shell of the nut. Once I did, after much perseverance, I discovered the wealth of treasures that lie within. I am pleased to say that the music featured on this disc is some of the least forbidding in his output. A large part of Reger's compositional oeuvre consists of chamber music, and these two String Trios and Piano Quartet are certainly more approachable than the String Quartets.

“It is absolutely clear to me that what our present age lacks is a Mozart” declared Reger in June 1904. The result was the String Trio No. 1 in A minor, Op. 77b. It was premiered in November of that same year to great critical acclaim. It sounds quite extrovert at times, almost certainly in an attempt to capture some of that Mozartian lightness. After a solemn introduction, the opening movement suddenly springs to life, the energetic thrust alternates with contrasting lyrical warmth. A tender Larghetto follows, reflective in disposition. The good-humoured Scherzo sounds quite neoclassical in style. Quoting a theme from Mozart's Abduction from the Seraglio, the finale cannot fail to raise a smile.

I, personally, find the String Trio in D minor, Op. 141b the more attractive of the two; maybe this is the reason why it is positioned first on the CD. A late work, it was completed in 1915, a year before Reger’s untimely death. It is a reworking of a Flute Serenade, Op. 141a, and is structured in three movements. Despite the glow of the opening movement, there is a pervading sadness and sense of longing. This is followed by a theme and variations, elegant and skilfully etched. The Vivace, which ends the work, is sun-soaked, with a playful abandon. The Trio proved popular with public and critics alike after the first performance, and it is hardly surprising.

The Trio Lirico join forces with pianist Detlev Eisinger for an impassioned reading of the Piano Quartet No. 2 in A minor, Op. 133. The work was begun in 1914 and premiered at the Leipzig Gewandhaus in February 1915. It was published a year later. At the time, the critics praised its “glorious sororities” and its “vocal, vivid and catchy” melodies. For me, there are powerful echoes of Brahms in the music. Reger's often dense, syrupy textures and virtuosic piano writing are a notable feature of the intensely passionate opening movement. A frolicsome Vivace follows, offering some light relief. A noble, ardently-etched Largo precedes a spirited finale.

The Trio Lirico was formed in 2014, and this is their debut CD. Recorded last year, it marks the centenary of the composer's death on 1916. These are stunning performances, with precision ensemble. The Trio are utterly committed to the music and their interpretations are thoroughly convincing. Detlev Eisinger I would equally praise for the passion, energy and refinement he brings to the Piano Quartet. Audite's plush sound is another asset. For the uninitiated, especially, this constitutes a highly recommended Reger chamber music primer.

Darius Milhaud is perhaps rivalled only by Paul Hindemith among twentieth-century composers for his substantial and varied oeuvre of chamber music. In a collection of published interviews with Claude Rostand (1952), Milhaud supplemented a characteristically droll statement that he would like to write eighteen string quartets, ‘one more than Beethoven’, with the explanation that writing chamber music was a way of defending the genre ‘during a period when it was being sacrificed to the aesthetic of mass-produced music, to the aesthetic of the music hall and the circus’.

He also looked back to his childhood: ‘I took part in too much chamber music in my youth: sonatas, trios, quartets-played with my father at home or with the quartet of my dear old Bruguier [his violin teacher], not to have retained the taste for it. And besides, it is a form, the quartet above all, that conduces to meditation, to the expression of what is deepest in oneself – it is very satisfying for its austerity, for its character as essentially a vehicle of pure music, and also for the economy of means to which one must adapt oneself. It is at once an intellectual discipline and the crucible of the most intense emotion.’

This disc, which presents not the string quartets but Milhaud’s two works for string trio, alongside those by Bohuslav Martinů, confirms that the string trio medium can be every bit as intense, austere and disciplined as the more prevalent quartet idiom.

In the hands of the Jacques Thibaud String Trio, the first movement of Milhaud’s String Trio No.1 (1947) springs nimbly into vibrant life, propelled by Bogdan Jianu’s incisive cello pizzicatos which seem to flip forward the freely flowing contrapuntal interplay of the two upper strings. Vif is the first of five short movements in which brevity is no barrier to Milhaud’s fecundity or breadth of invention. If not all the musical ideas are necessarily striking or memorable, the Jacques Thibaud Trio takes care to emphasise the melodic grace and rhythmic thrust of the small motifs which tumble forth. The lines are cleanly articulated and there is a good balance between the three voices as, even in this opening miniature, they range – often in the blink of an eye – from high to low, from diatonicism to dissonance, from strength to a whisper, from well-tuned unisons to vigorous counterpoint.

There’s no lack of timbral contrast either. Modéré opens with grainy chords, which resonate with a warm folky jangle, while the gentle melodic probings unfold sweetly. In the central Sérénade the players take turns to dance in sprightly style above pizzicato strumming, coming together for more sentimental reflection. The counterpoint of Canons generates thoughtful intensity – the cello’s songful tone, in particular, draws the ear into the arguments – while in the concluding Jeu Fugué intertwining lines patter forth with wit and dexterity.

There was to be no String Trio ‘No.2’ from Milhaud, but he had composed a Sonatina à trois for the same forces in 1940. While the counterpoint here seems more ‘scholarly’ than ingenious, the Jacques Thibaud Trio’s soft-toned warmth and appealing colours injects some charm into the first two brief movements, and the pizzicatos of Animé are pert and perky beneath Burkhard Maiß’s high-rise surfing and Hannah Strijbos’ rich slithers.

Martinů’s interest in the music of Debussy and Ravel led him, in the early 1920s, from his native Czechoslovakia to Paris, where he studied with Albert Roussel, and it was during this time that his first String Trio (1924) was composed. The work inevitably reflects Martinů’s exposure to a variety of new forms of musical expression. And, as Paris in the Twenties was a veritable musical melting pot, one hears robust folksiness alongside hazy jazz hues, as vigorous counterpoint is countered by impressionistic colorism.

The interpretative and virtuosic demands are more challenging here than in Milhaud’s two slender trios. All three instruments are pushed to high-lying extremes, but the players sustain tonal beauty and precision – Maiß’s violin glistens like a thread of silver – and they embrace the score’s delicacies and abrasiveness with equal command and care. The Andante is played with especial beauty and real tenderness: perhaps it’s fanciful, but one feels that one can hear Bohemian sentiments of love, longing and loss here, though in the chordal climax, as the strings combine in a rich blend that seems to comprise many more than three voices, there is a compelling sense of release and joy. The final Poco Allegro has an improvisatory and infectious joie de vivre, as if Martinů was rambling, in his memory, through a Czech village, hearing snatches of language, song and dance, as the music of modern-day Paris drifted through his open window. In this movement, the Jacques Thibaud Trio creates a driving dynamism, which is brusque, brisk and breezy.

The Second Trio was written ten years later. It is performed here with impressive accord and insight as romantic and modern sentiments again collide, or rather, are assimilated. The Jacques Thibaud Trio has a strong appreciation of the structure and idiom, and displays technical mastery in sustaining a persuasive tautness. In the Allegro, textures feel sinewy, whether the three string parts are conversing, sometimes ferociously, or melodising expressively. The motoring repetitions of the concluding episode are tremendously exciting and resolve into juicily satisfying fat cadential chords. Jianu’s solo introduction to the Poco moderato is played with a heart-touching eloquence which avoids sentimentalism, and which takes a piquant turn in the ensuing Vivo, with its whipping glissandi, chuntering repetitions, fizzing trills and flutterings, and string-slapping pizzicatos.

This is a refreshing recording. The Jacques Thibaud String Trio has lavished care and attention on these small forms, confirming without doubt that ‘slight’ does not mean a lack of musical substance or sincerity.

Toujours soucieux de mettre ses pas dans ceux de ses augustes modèles, Max Reger ne pou – vait pas passer à côté du trio à cordes illustré par Mozart (le génial Divertimento KV 563 ) et Beethoven (les Opus 3, 8 et 9). Il en a composé deux, glissés dans des opus doubles (ce qui explique le « b » après le numéro). La volonté de simplification du langage s’y accorde à la concision du propos. Le naturel l’emporte, et la qualité de l’écriture n’a rien à envier à celle des quatuors, datant de la même époque. Quant au Quatuor avec piano n° 2 de 1915, une des dernières œuvres de Reger, il se situe dans la descendance avouée de l’ Opus 60 de Brahms, tout comme le quintette avec clarinette, à peine plus tardif, s’inspire également de l’ Opus 115 de son prédécesseur.

Le Trio Lirico, formation allemande créée en 2014, maîtrise les codes très spécifiques du Reger tardif (entre épure et tension harmonique extrême). Detlev Eisinger apporte une densité du son toute brahmsienne au Quatuor op. 133, dont il fait un chef-d’œuvre comparable au Quintette avec clarinette op. 146, avec une plus grande décantation que dans le Quatuor op. 113. Ce programme original n’a pour concurrence que la série MDG du Quatuor de Mannheim avec Claudius Tansky, aux couplages différents. La version des quatuors avec piano par le Quatuor Elyséen, dans l’ancienne intégrale Da camera Magna, s’incline devant les nouveaux venus.