|
|
Content by DAVID BRYSON
Reviewer Rank: 13
Helpful Votes:
7719
|
|
Learn more about Your Profile.
|
Reviews Written by
DAVID BRYSON (Glossop Derbyshire England)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
PLAYED IMPRESSIONISTICALLY, 20 Nov 2009
On one of his early tours Horowitz played some Ravel to an audience including the composer, and Ravel told him that in Paris his music was played more impressionistically. Ravel did not go so far as to say that was how he wanted it played, but it must at least be highly `authentic' to do it like that. To my dismay I find that my Horowitz collection contains no Ravel, so I am having to guess what the expressions `more/less impressionistic' signify. My hunch is that it may come down to not much more than a matter of the use of the sustaining pedal.
You could not ask for a stronger link with Ravel than Perlemuter, Ravel's own pupil and Horowitz's exact contemporary, provides. These two discs, just over 2 hours between them, offer us all Ravel's music for piano solo. It is not all in the same style, and some of the works are much more `impressionistic' than others. When the Valses Nobles et Sentimentales were first performed without attribution to Ravel many failed to recognise them as his. The pastiche pieces - Le Tombeau de Couperin, A la Maniere de... -- are not impressionistic in the same way as the Miroirs are, and even among the Miroirs the Alborada del Gracioso is a very different sort of impressionistic from its companions. And I am not sure that the Pavane and the Sonatine can be helpfully described as impressionistic at all. However Perlemuter is the direct musical descendent of Ravel in Paris, he embodies that tradition as nobody else does, and it is noticeable all the way through that he is more generous than many are with the sustaining pedal.
How important is this kind of authenticity? Perhaps I can sidestep my own question by calling authenticity very significant, which surely must be a safe way of putting it. Far more significant for me is a remark of Michelangeli's to the effect that no piano could possibly be good enough for Gaspard de la Nuit. That highlights the need that I feel for absolute technical perfection in Ravel. Michelangeli referred to the need for perfection in the instrument, I would add perfection in the player's technique. By that I mean more than hitting the right notes (although in Scarbo if you listen hard you will catch that historically rare event a wrong note from Michelangeli). What I mean is a perfect balance and elegance in the touch, and from that angle Perlemuter's touch is just a fraction short of being the stuff of my dreams. All of the playing here is very good indeed. I like his Le Gibet enormously for one, with his slow tempo and the second of each pair of tolling notes played as a kind of echo of the first. I like everything he does in the pieces where his is the only performance that I own, but where I have an alternative I think I prefer the alternative in all cases except Le Gibet.
The reason for that, I'm in no doubt, is that these alternative performances are from some of the most stupendous technicians who ever played the piano. Perlemuter's Jeux d'Eau is light, elegant and beautiful, but a single effortless upward run from Cziffra tips the balance in his favour. In the horrifically difficult Alborada it is unreasonable to expect any human being to be able to play the machine-gun repeated notes evenly, and Perlemuter is only human, but Lipatti, it appears, is not. Mentioning inhuman difficulty brings me to Gaspard, and in Ondine and Scarbo I have to hand the first two places to Michelangeli and Gavrilov. Michelangeli, in a live recording from London in 1959, has the shimmering figuration at the start of Ondine to perfection, but not much if at all better than Gavrilov has it. Where he scores is in the way he recaptures it at the end, and beginning or end Perlemuter can't quite match this level of control. At the start of Scarbo Perlemuter adopts a kind of half-way touch between rapping out the repeated notes as Gavrilov does and Michelangeli's hammerless vibrato. I don't think I have any preference for any of these ways in general, but what I do look for is perfect evenness and control, and...well, you can fill in the rest. Nobody, but nobody in my opinion, has ever matched Michelangeli's extraordinary tone painting in the rest of that piece, but that is another story.
Another story still is the story of the Valses. You will not feel you are missing anything when you hear Perlemuter's fine account, and if you want to keep things that way on no account get acquainted with Michelangeli's live rendering at Arezzo in 1952. Michelangeli's performance takes a full 3 minutes longer than Perlemuter's, and 3 minutes on 14 is a big increase. The difference comes in the very slow numbers, and you will hear some awesome quiet introverted sequences as well as the morose and moody forte outbursts that make Michelangeli at that period of his career a phenomenon without parallel.
I need to say it again - there is not a single performance here that is less than very good, the recording is not bad either, the price is a bargain and even the liner note is good. I need hardly add that I don't expect everybody to give the same relative weighting as I do to technical perfection as against authenticity of tradition. These are not my values in assessing performances of other composers. Beethoven is, I'm sure, a far greater composer than Ravel, but I am not greatly fussed about perfect pianos or a perfectly even touch when I hear his sonatas played. For me, there has to be a certain artificial perfection in performing Ravel. Perlemuter is not far from it, just not quite near enough by this unreasonable standard which some other executants have been sufficiently unreasonable to satisfy for me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Human Race
|
by O.C. Heaton
Edition: Paperback |
| Price: £8.99 |
|
| Availability: In stock |
|
|
|
|
|
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
GETTING FROM A TO C, 16 Nov 2009
If you are looking for a well-plotted and well-written thriller to while away the hours of a long flight, this offering might suit you very well. It is a very promising debut novel, and it is to be the first of a `thrillogy', which must mean that we can look forward to two sequels. However the really intriguing thing about the book is that the action centres on the invention of instantaneous transportation, something that will of course make long flights a thing of the past.
This author likes detail. That is fine by me because so do I, but there is just a risk that you might find the heroine's earnest speechifying a little lengthy in the first half of the story. She explains the gee-whizz `science' of the new technology with great particularity, and she points out the enormous downside consequences that flow from it if we stop to think about it even for a moment or two. The rest of the first half introduces the two chief male actors to us, and I found the characterisation quite convincing all the way through, including some important new entrants later on. I was not so keen on the reach-me-down device of having identical twins to help out the plot near the end, because this is just a bit too facile and predictable. However the narrative line is extremely clear throughout, except of course where the author wants to keep us guessing for a while, which in general he does very well.
The story starts vividly, and a major bonus for me was setting much of the action in Iceland, because I have actually been there, although only to Rejkjavik and Keflavik (plus a hair-raising flight past the then new volcano Surtsey) and not to the interior. The pace slackens for a while, but when the action really starts half way along it hardly lets up until the end. This writer knows what he is doing, and I enjoyed the ride he was taking me on. How many more years of long flights I have in me I have no idea, but given a following wind I know where to look for an interesting and agreeable travelling companion on my way to two future destinations.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
A DEFINITE MAYBE, 9 Nov 2009
After a period as a composer of 12-note serial music Schnittke came to think that this musical technique was unable `to suggest anything comparable to the perspectives of tonal music', to quote the liner note accompanying this disc. I could probably have told him that myself, but I thought I ought to gain some idea of how Schnittke's new scheme worked out. He was deeply impressed, apparently, by Webern's perception of `the basic principle of sonata form as a contrast between Strict and Free', and consequently he tried to replicate this duality by alternating tonal with atonal in his own music. Without any preconceptions of what I was going to find, I thought it a safe bet that there would not be any better exponent of it than Gidon Kremer, one of the greatest and boldest violinists of his generation.
This expectation has certainly been fulfilled. Helped by good clear 1986 and 1990 recordings, Kremer puts his prodigious technique and enormous commitment at the service of the music, in the roles of soloist and conductor. The first piece here is a `concerto grosso', and the liner note tells us about its `polystylisticism', [I kid you not], but does not mention the essential feature of any concerto grosso, namely its opposition of a small `concertino' group of solo instruments against the full or `ripieno' band. Here Kremer is partnered by Tatiana Grindenko in another violin part, and there are also roles for a harpsichord and a `prepared' (sc messed-around) piano, although I would myself think of these instruments as `continuo' or background harmony. There is a wide range of effects among the six movements of this piece, I was pretty impressed with the way they were handled by everyone concerned, and I like to think that those more familiar than I am with the music might share this view.
The next item is a work for solo violin and orchestra called `Quasi una sonata'. Kremer conducts as well as doing the solo, and again there is a minor piano part. If you work at it, as the liner note does, you can apparently find Schnittke's replication of Webern's idea of sonata form here, but in honesty I think this is all hot air. Alternation of any two stylistic features is much like alternation of any other two features, if we want to be as theoretical as this. I would seriously question the credentials of any listener who would claim to hear any such abstraction in performance. More significant to me is the alternation between piano and violin at the start. This is splendidly dramatic and declamatory, and I would say that the players' sense of belief is likely to hold most listeners' attention throughout the 20-plus minutes that the piece lasts.
The other two items are rather lighter. One is archly entitled Moz-Art a la Haydn, and consists of some jocularity in playing around with themes by Mozart, starting in darkness if we were present at a live concert performance. The hilarity is consummated by having the players leave the platform one by one, in the manner of Haydn's `Farewell' symphony. The conductor in such a performance is further instructed to keep beating time in silence at the end, and for what it's worth the following interval between tracks on the disc faithfully reflects this. I confess that all this is not my own idea of an interesting musical or other kind of event, but whether intentionally or not the first few notes of Mozart's G minor symphony, in such a context, made me realise more than ever how marvellous that composition is. Lastly there is `A Paganini', a kind of capriccio for solo violin similar to Paganini's own efforts, consisting of an introduction and two cadenzas and played with stupendous despatch and virtuosity by Kremer.
5 stars is my measure of how well this music is performed here. The caption to this review reflects my opinion of the music, which is basically agnostic - I like it well enough, but whether it all amounts to much I'm not sure. For many years the devotees of the avant-garde controlled the conversation when it came to discussing classical music, but a reaction seems to have set in. It's the way of such reactions that they over-react, and the interesting thing about Schnittke is that he backtracked partly down the same route much earlier, although only partly. Whatever any of us think of the music, it is at least interesting from a historical standpoint, or even from a seat on the fence.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
AAA for HHH, 1 Nov 2009
If a modern Fazioli grand piano had been available to Haydn I can't imagine him spurning it in favour of a fortepiano, particularly for the robust E flat sonata that concludes this recital. Still less can I envisage Handel, the leading virtuoso of his day, spending much more time with a harpsichord if he had an instrument like this at his disposal. Authenticity is all very well and I'm all in favour, but music does not exist for instruments, instruments exist for music, and advances in the design of instruments should be put to music's benefit.
Let me offer my enthusiastic endorsement to everything that Angela Hewitt does in this selection marking the anniversaries of both masters (Handel d 1759 Haydn d 1809). What she does is more than just play: she contributes her own liner note as usual, and as always it is a pleasure to read - informal and full of enthusiasm and charm. She takes us through some textual issues in the Handel chaconne, and lets us into her thinking in occasional matters of interpretation. I had already been struck by a dramatic stringendo that she applies to one part of the same piece, and the note tells us why she does it that way. In particular I like her sensible comments regarding double-bar repeats. Apparently there is another chaconne by Handel with no fewer than 62 variations, `...and if you repeated all of those you'd be there for a while.' However let me reassure anyone feeling anxiety on this score that the first movement repeat is rightly observed in the Haydn sonata.
The playing here is full of the effortless and natural beauty that has been the mark of everything I have heard Angela Hewitt do. Her style in 18th century music is not much like the style of her great compatriot and forerunner Gould. It is less `stylised', using more rhythmic inflexion and more sustaining pedal. She is not afraid of a full tone here and there, notably at the start of the Haydn sonata but also in the fugue from Handel's F minor suite, where Handel thickens his bass with chords. Ms Hewitt speaks admiringly about this fugue, but elsewhere remarks (reasonably enough) that `Handel's part-writing may not be as sophisticated and masterful as Bach's.' This is an interesting point. Tovey looked down his nose at Handel's fugues for not being full-dress Teutonic exercises like Bach's with countersubjects strettos and all the paraphernalia, but Handel's part-writing is effortless and accomplished as far as it goes. Handel had been to Italy, and in Italy there was a tradition of improvised fugues that served a different objective from the German style. It seems to me that the fugal idiom provided a certain kind of vigorous expression (I don't know of any slow fugues by Handel) instead of building up a pattern a la Bach. Anyway, there is one fugue each in these partitas, and very nicely played they are.
In Haydn's half of the recital we have the superb F minor variations as well as the big E flat sonata. Haydn and Mozart did not write many works in minor keys, and this set of variations takes nearly 17 minutes, which is as long as a number of Beethoven sonatas. I'm hearing it played here as I think it should be played, with proper solemnity. A lot of the comment I read highlighting some supposed jocularity in Haydn's style gets on my nerves for its patronising attitude. There is certainly elegant 18th century wit and point in many of his compositions, but his basic characteristics seem to me to be grace, proportion and humanity. Writing a major instrumental composition in a minor key at this late date, long after his supposed Sturm und Drang phase, indicates something special from this composer, and this performance does the piece justice.
I like it all from beginning to end. The Handel works were not greatly familiar to me, so I like them for that reason quite apart from being such fine music. The Haydn variations and sonata were on my home ground, I welcome them for that reason and it is going to be very easy to live with these performances. The recordings date from this year 2009 and last. Perhaps there is a little too much resonance, but nothing that worries me. Among them, Handel Haydn and Mme Hewitt have given me something to treasure as well as admire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
CHRISTMAS TALKS, 26 Oct 2009
Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Programme (What's this?)
`Gued evening.' I can still hear the familiar and well-loved voice of Alistair Cooke starting his weekly `Letter from America' on BBC radio. The series came about through drift more than through design or policy, and it lasted for over 60 years. Alistair Cooke died in 2004, aged 95 and reportedly working on his next `talk' as he himself called his weekly broadcasts.
He was English of course, born in Manchester (or at least Salford) and Cambridge-educated. From an early date America became his home, and his deep love of his adopted country, combined of course with his outstanding journalistic gifts, gave his talks their distinctive flavour and accounted for their astonishing success with their British audience. They are letters from America, not letters to America, and I have no idea whether they were familiar in America, where Cooke was better known for his longer broadcasts and for his books. I myself developed a fascination for America and for Cooke's talks from an early age, and I was pleased to find that the selection of 8 broadcasts here, although including recent numbers from 2003 and 2001, covers a wide range of dates going back as far as 1951, when I was already hooked on Cooke. At that date Radio 4 was called the Home Service, and television, although in existence as an invention, was only beginning to penetrate our culture. You can hear Cooke on this topic in the first item on the second disc. I no doubt heard it myself, but `heard' and not `saw' would have been the verb, as my parents were implacably opposed to having such a thing distracting their school-aged family from their schoolwork.
None of the talks here is on any political topic, you may be relieved to hear. In the nature of the case, plenty of them were, but Cooke was far too skilful, professional and sensitive to obtrude his own political opinions in any way that would be objectionable. Similarly his passion for golf is something he regularly alludes to, but again he has more sense than to be any clubhouse bore on air. Often he would start on one topic and drift on to another or others, and that is what he does in his first letter here, which starts with the subject of how he actually introduced Leonard Bernstein, no less, to The Messiah. In another he starts by talking about Groucho Marx and finishes with a long and affectionate tribute to Bing Crosby. He talks about whatever he fancies, I'm sure he consulted no focus groups about what might interest his listeners, and his success in that respect is proof of what amounts to no less than genius.
The talks are introduced by the BBC's American editor Justin Webb. Justin Webb is a polished BBC professional, smooth and accomplished and with all the individuality of a paper cup. His presence throws into higher relief the difference between Alistair Cooke and the regular run of journalists, even upmarket journalists. On these two discs the linking motif is the festive season. I am sure that these talks will have an assured market among British nostalgists who remember Cooke as well as I do. Who else they will appeal to I have no real idea. Admirers of journalistic talent ought to find plenty to admire, and Americans may be interested to hear how their nation and their culture were presented, so sympathetically and for so long, by no mean presenter.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
IT'S THE WAY HE TELLS THEM, 25 Oct 2009
Customer review from the Amazon Vine™ Programme (What's this?)
Here is a thoroughly civilised piece of Hallowe'en entertainment. One of England's finest actors regales us with four of the famous ghost stories of England's finest ghost story writer. The two discs comprise A Warning to the Curious, The Mezzotint, The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral and A Neighbour's Landmark. The available choice of audiobooks containing the M R James stories has surprised me by its variety, but I have not troubled to find out which others, if any, consist of exactly these four tales. Anyone wanting these four and wishing to hear them read as they ought to be read really need look no further.
James is always slightly tongue-in-cheek, delicately parodying the idiom of his own upper-bracket social class around the turn of the 20th century. Derek Jacobi captures this nuance to something like perfection without overdoing it. As the main narrator he stays himself, a product of the acting schools of the later 20th century. A beautiful middle-aged voice is all that is really needed from the reader: James does the rest. You will experience without distractions the special atmosphere and tingle-factor that make James unique, and I found that I admired the actual selection of the four stories, which offer a nice variety in the author's methods. Indeed A Neighbour's Landmark is rather unlike most of James's plots, and I wondered whether it was based on a real historical court case. It has more sense of reportage and less of fantasy than usual, and I'm sure the feeling of reality that it had for me has nothing to do with the fact that the name Reggie Phillipson is one from my own early schooldays.
Otherwise you will find James's usual recipe of pagan demons present in the heart of high Anglican worship, comfortable Cambridge dons and cathedral clergy confronted with what they do not understand, and the unique and special ambience of East Anglia with its flat landscapes and invasive mists. It is all done with a unique delicacy and restraint that makes me, and I'm sure many, shiver far more than strenuous attempts to scare me ever do. The tingle-factor is largely eerie, as of course it ought to be, but the sheer artistry of it has a lot to do with the matter as well.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
IN THE BEGINNING, 21 Oct 2009
If, like myself, you have read several books and acreages of newsprint devoted to the development and outcome of the recent war in Iraq, you may find it helpful, as I have just done, to `rewind' to the start of the matter and check your recollections. If you are new to the topic and want to start at the beginning, then this book is about the beginning of it, whereat to start. Rageh Omaar was there. He had been Iraq correspondent for the BBC for several years prior to the invasion, he chose not to leave and was in Baghdad throughout the shock-and-awe phase, the fall of Saddam's regime and the immediate consequences. He does not even mention the report that many will particularly remember him for: he was on the plinth of Saddam's statue in Firdoos Square after it was pulled down and the London anchorman said `Rageh, raise you arm so that we can see you.' The correspondent, who is tall, walked across the plinth waving as he walked, and the sense of authenticity was unforgettable. He left for a while to see his family, but he went back, and his postscript offers his own assessment of what it all amounted to.
This book is in the best tradition of BBC reporting. Facts are paramount, and the occasional inferences are strictly related to his observations. He not only saw, he listened as well. Rageh Omaar speaks English in the impeccable tones of an expensive English education, but he was born in Somalia and speaks Arabic, several dialects of it, apparently. He was able to converse with Iraqis and he lets us know what they said without either interpretation or embellishment. He does not lecture or preach or moralise, and if he does not give us much in the way of hypothetical `better news' that I have heard the BBC accused of not reporting, it is quite obvious that this is because there was next to no better news to report. THIS is what it was like, and this is someone who did not have to rely on second-hand opinions.
He describes some early bombardment of civilian areas by the coalition, as well as the coalition bombing of the HQ of both Al Jazeera and Reuters, the co-ordinates of which were known to the coalition forces. He quotes coalition allegations in this context about `human shields' purportedly used by the regime, but in these cases there was nothing of the kind, nor does he ever mention any others. (I should say that he was no enthusiast for Saddam's regime, which he depicts as being one of thugs and gangsters.) He is particularly enlightening regarding the looting that followed immediately on the air strikes. Ransacking of the luxurious apartments of members of the hated regime was one thing, but the wholesale vandalism was something else, and too organised, he says, to have been anything except a pre-planned scorched earth policy. He cites the coalition protection of the Oil Ministry and Ministry of the Interior while the rest was neglected as a glaring error, and he traces the start of the Iraqi public's disenchantment with the occupation from that gaffe onwards.
There is, naturally, a good deal about the life of a reporter in such conditions, and it is highly informative in its own right. However this is an Arabic speaker, and the best things of all are his reports of what `ordinary' Iraqis told him. The picture that comes across is of a people repressed by a brutal and sadistic regime who briefly entertained hopes of genuine `liberation', hopefully leaving them to run their country as they desired. The number of ways in which we find that to be not the case are more various than perhaps we realise, and any reader who gains an overall impression of brainwashed ignorance, arrogant dishonesty and doublespeak, and downright incompetence on the part of the occupiers will have no trouble in gaining it, but this reporter is too professional and self-controlled to spell it out (if it is even what he thinks).
After a short absence he came back, this time starting in the south at Basra and some smaller locations. As before, he is first and foremost a reporter, but this time he offers rather more analysis, and it is mainly analysis of a catalogue of errors, pre-eminent among those being Bremer's almost incomprehensibly stupid policy of de-Ba'athification. At the start, Rageh Omaar had described in thoughtful detail the disastrous impact of the UN sanctions, that followed by the dissolution of the army which turned loose a whole population of unemployed, dispossessed and humiliated citizenry, resentful, vengeful and armed. Now here was Bremer consummating this process of total annihilation of the state apparatus which had always been relied on by the people under Saddam but whose fundamental importance to them had been immeasurably increased by the sanctions.
It's not clear to me how any significantly different picture could be obtained by any fair-minded and attentive reader, but that's my own view and it may not be yours. However you see it, check your basic understanding of what actually happened from this book, and see how other versions hold up against it. It doesn't get more honest than this.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Acid Bath
|
by Vaseleos Garson
Edition: Audio CD |
| Price: £13.69 |
|
| Availability: In stock |
|
|
|
|
|
16 of 20 people found the following review helpful:
AS THOUGH OF HEMLOCK HE HAD DRUNK, 16 Oct 2009
This story dates from 1952, at which date I was a pre-teen captivated by science fiction stories. I mainly stuck with a few unpretentious scribes now totally forgotten except by me - Vargo Statten, Jon J Deegan, where are you now? - but even then I could classify the stuff I read by the age-band it was suitable for. Even then I would have put Acid Bath in the 10-year-olds' bracket, so these days, with both science fiction and its youthful consumers so much more sophisticated and experienced, I have to call it strictly kiddies' stuff.
It has a lot of nostalgic charm, all the same. Earthmen and alien cultures at that time seemed only to want to do battle with one another, and the battles were often fought by a token force of aliens, who were duly defeated - and that was usually that. It never occurred to any of us to question the economics of such a scenario, let alone why any culture on encountering another would simply act towards it as if they were the gangs in West Side Story or similar. Such was the post-war mind-set, I suppose. That's the way you will find it here, and you will also have to swallow some rather unconvincing details such as bushes growing on an asteroid, and the hero running on the asteroid, which would have taken him out into the depths of space never to return.
To call the story-line simplistic would almost flatter it, but the reading is really charming. I have read somewhere that Max Bollinger himself is the reader and that he comes from the Ukraine. That may or may not be the same as being Ukrainian, but one way or the other it seems to prove that my original guess (from another audio book) that the reader is Chinese must be wrong. His voice is exceptionally agreeable and pleasant, the English pronunciation is generally very good, and even the occasional oddities, such as `bowl' pronounced `bowel', are delightful in their own right.
It does not last very long, so be careful what you pay. In particular I suggest you should have a clear idea who your target recipient of this gift is going to be. I got it for nothing and unasked, with a request for a review, so here you are.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:
AUTHENTICITY AT A PRICE, 11 Oct 2009
It was Joshua Rifkin who first argued persuasively for the use of single voices per part in Bach's choruses, and that is the manner of performance he adopts here. Whatever reservations I or anyone may feel about this set in general, there can be no disputing Professor Rifkin's scholarship. Everything here is AAA authentic, and I wish that were all there is to the matter.
Unfortunately it's not. The dispute that Rifkin set in train between the single-voicers and multi-voicers has been the deadliest bore to afflict classical music since the onslaught of the repeats-are-compulsory enforcers 40 years ago. For my own part, I am entirely in favour of authenticity, but authenticity subject to a certain amount of discrimination and simple common sense. Just as in sonata-style compositions double-bar repeats mean that the section MAY be repeated, not that it has to be, so it involves a very limiting view of Bach's infinite musical genius to suppose that single-voice renderings are the only choral style possible. There is also the question how the requirement for authenticity affects phrasing, tempo, tone and general musicality. I recall first hearing Joshua Rifkin many years ago when he played the Scott Joplin soundtrack to The Sting, I own some of his other Scott Joplin rags, and I know what a marvellous natural sense of rhythm he has. What a pity then that he seems to feel that `classical' or `authentic' chastity compels him to deliver the melody of Jesu Joy in such a straitlaced and metronomic way. The same problem affects the famous melody of Wachet Auf, and although my growing collection of Bach cantata discs, currently around 50, does not include these famous works in other versions, nevertheless I own by now enough performances from Gardiner's great 2000-pilgrimage cantata series to appreciate in general that commitment to authenticity does not entail commitment to dryness.
As you would expect, much of this 2-disc set is very enjoyable. With music like this it would take genius of entirely the wrong kind to make that not so. Among the soloists I would say that the bass Jan Opalach is very good and the tenor Frank Kelley is even better. Sadly I can bestow no such encomium on the soprano who monopolises BWV 51. Still ringing in my ears is the wonderful performance that Malin Hartelius turns in for Gardiner. Indeed, the first chorus Jauchzet Gott is, for me, the low point of this entire set - slow, lumbering and leaden-footed in a piece that should be effervescent and brilliant as it is from Gardiner, Mme Hartelius and the trumpeter Nicklas Eklund. The final passage in BWV 140 is if anything worse, the only saving grace being that there is less to lose. The text is Des sind wir froh, io io, ewig in dulci jubilo, which being interpreted is `Thus are we joyful, hurrah hurrah, in everlasting sweet joy.' If you want to hear the most hangdog jubilation you ever heard, come this way. Surely nobody could spoil the celestial duet Wir eilen from BWV 78, nor does Rifkin spoil it, but I still prefer the way it was handled by Teresa Stich Randall and Dagmar Hermann (especially the latter) on the old Vanguard disc under the baton of Prohaska. There seems to be another minor issue of authenticity here - on the Vanguard disc the continuo introduction gives the melody in all its glory, whereas here we get a skeleton outline only.
The recording is now a quarter of a century old, and it is not bad at all in my own opinion, although I found myself turning down the volume which had last been set for the thunderous start of Handel's Dettingen Te Deum. Occasionally I wondered whether the voices were a little backward, but maybe not. In any case that is probably a good fault in Bach, whose inspiration is basically instrumental and not focused on the voices like Handel's. What is certainly true is that the acoustic does not suggest churches as Gardiner's, having been done in churches, unsurprisingly does. The liner note is rather humdrum and tells us nothing about the performers, but I can forgive it that and worse for sparing us any further discussion of the rights and wrongs of single voices in the choruses. I readily admit that I found the mighty chorus Ein' feste Burg a novel and interesting experience when treated in this way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:
SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW, 9 Oct 2009
Whether or not this audio book is easily available on the normal market, I have just been sent it in October 2009 with a request for a review. What it contains is a short ghost story translated from the original Russian of Nikolai Leskov (1831-1895), allegedly not well known in the English-speaking world, and certainly totally unknown to me. The narration lasts about half an hour in total, divided into 11 tracks.
I am informed in the accompanying letter from the publisher that the story can be downloaded on to an iPod or an MP3 player, neither of which I own; and apparently also on to a mobile phone which I do own, although I can't really see myself performing this miracle of technology. I have played the disc on my normal DVD player, and I can report that I encountered no problems with that. Indeed I rather enjoyed the experience as a novelty. Audio books are not exactly at the leading edge of media science, but my own experience of them was previously limited to various language primer series, in which of course the audio element is supplemented by the printed material. No need for that here, quite obviously, but the publisher draws attention to the rather shy and limited sound-effects, so I shall in turn draw attention to them here.
The story and the reading appeal to me quite strongly. I like 19th century ghost stories, and I got my introduction to them as a child from some old volumes to be found in the house where we used to take our family holidays. I don't remember the name of Leskov, but he does recall to me the authors I do still remember such as Algernon Blackwood, Lord Dunsany, Mrs Oliphant and Mrs Belloc Lowndes. I also like what I think of as a distinctively Russian tinge to this narrative of a youthful attempt at playing at ghosts that finds itself abruptly in contact with the real thing. As much as anything else, I find the reader's voice particularly agreeable and different. The English pronunciation is generally excellent although I would guess the reader is Chinese, and some engaging details such as `emanciated' twice for `emaciated', `cushion' pronounced with the first syllable as in tush and `blew over candles' for `blew out candles' just added to the charm for me, and I would not want them edited out.
Definitely recommended, particularly if it encourages young people to get interested in printed books as well.
|
|
|
|
