Gramophone Magazine Editor's Choice

“Kermes is on top form, singing with vocal clarity, tonal precision and inflective subtlety.” BBC Music Magazine, April 2008 *****

“Simone Kermes has once again teamed up with Andrea Marcon and his Venice Baroque Orchestra for a superbly balanced exploration of opera arias. The level of effort and intelligence in choosing the right repertoire is clearly manifest in this varied and stimulating anthology.
There is a tangible variety of dramatic sentiments and instrumental colours: the introduction of solo cello, recorders, trumpets, solo trumpet and horns in occasional arias is perfectly timed to avoid too much textural monotony, and they make the experience livelier and entertaining. Each aria seems to have been meticulously placed in a sequence that pulls the listener through the contrasts in Vivaldi's operatic writing, which also means that the disc tells a story about the repertoire as well as giving Kermes and the Venetian players plenty of opportunities to show how well they can perform it.
Some of Kermes's dizzying cadenzas are perhaps excessive, but such extravagances are never dull. Her delivery of tempestuous coloratura arias is often exhilarating (the opening aria 'Siam navi all'onde algenti'). The Venice Baroque Orchestra's playing is also dazzling, sensitive and lyrical.
Five of the arias here are first recordings, including a robust heroic aria from OrlandoFurioso – not Vivaldi's famous opera of that title but an earlier setting of the story that also featured music by Ristori – in which Kermes's rapid repeated notes are astonishing. The finest of the rare items is 'Quegl'occhi luminosi' (from Semiramide), which reminds us that, notwithstanding the flashy fast stuff, both singer and composer are often at their dramatic finest in ravishing slow music. 'Se in campo armato' (Catone in Utica) is tastefully played, with its vivacious trumpet-laden accompaniment excellently juxtaposed with a tender B section (although Kermes perhaps over-eggs the ornaments in the da capo repeat). The concluding aria 'Or che cinto ho il crin d'alloro' (Giustino) shows the musicians' infectious joy in the music, with an extrovert vocal line, exuberant horns, and snappy strings and continuo.
'Amor profano' is a role model of how a Baroque opera arias recital disc should be put together – with proper research, affection for the composer, and top-notch artistry.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Amor profano is a role model of how a Baroque opera arias recital disc should be put together - with proper research, affection for the composer, and top-notch artistry.” Gramophone Magazine, May 2008

“And this is Ravel a performance that bristles both on the keyboard and in a series of fabulous orchestral solos… a lurid delight.” BBC Music Magazine, July 2008 *****

“This unusual coupling contrasts two wildly different works. For some, Prokofiev's Second Piano Concerto is a work of genius, while for others it remains a monstrosity. Holding up a malevolent distorting mirror to Russian Romanticism, it carries the uneasy modernism of Rachmaninov's Fourth Concerto to its logical and devastating conclusion. Ravel's G major Concerto, on the other hand, recalls the spirits of Mozart and Saint-Saëns and contains a slow movement that is among the composer's most touching creations.
Prokofiev's Concerto is daunting and massive, Ravel's an enchanting jeu d'esprit.
Certainly Yundi Li (superbly partnered by Seji Ozawa and the Berlin Philharmonic) has few doubts about either concerto. Indeed, his performance of the Prokofiev, in its prodigious, unflagging power and brilliance, far surpasses any other in the catalogue. His moto perpetuo scherzo is vivace with a vengeance and the colossal first movement's combined development and cadenza is played with an authority that will make lesser mortals pale with envy and admiration. He is no less attuned to Ravel's charm and vivacity, to music seen through a glass brightly rather than darkly, touching off the central Adagio with a moving simplicity and whirling us through the finale with a dazzling and engaging joie de vivre. It only remains to add that this superlative young Chinese pianist is heard in the full glory of DG's sound at its most opulent and crystalline.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Yundi Li's performance of the Prokofiev, in its prodigious, unflagging power and brilliance, far surpasses any other in the catalogue. He is no less attuned to Ravel's charm and vivacity, to music seen through a glass brightly rather than darkly.” Gramophone Magazine, May 2008

“Yundi Li doesn’t stint on the clatter and madcap preening [in the Prokofiev], yet the performance still leans toward the emollient. Put that down partly to the Deutsche Grammophon recording’s round, resonant ambience and the gleam of the Berlin Philharmonic, conducted by Seiji Ozawa. Brighter pleasures are offered by...Ravel’s [concerto] in G major, a real blaze of sunshine. Much of the delight here is orchestral; the way Ozawa juggles Ravel’s shifting textures in the first movement is masterly...The adagio is where Yundi Li shines the most, tenderly probing his solo, supplying glancing rubato.” The Times, 18th April 2008

“Critics have sung Mr. Goerne's praises over and over, and one can hardly add anything at this point: The voice is one of the most beautiful - most lush, most creamy - that any of us has ever heard. His singing is almost impossibly smooth. The first time you hear it, you can scarcely believe it. Even the 10th time, you have to wonder… An impressive recital. Matthias Goerne: a first-class and unforgettable lieder singer.” The New York Sun

“In the sombre and elegiac songs that dominate his programme, Goerne is in his element, singing with his distinctive dark, rounded beauty and almost tortured intensity of thought and feeling. More than almost any other Lieder singer today, he combines expressive diction with an unblemished legato... In their mingled majesty and aching tenderness, Goerne's performances of two great Mayrhofer settings...are as moving as any performances I can remember. With his deep mahogany tones and innate seriousness of manner (on the concert platform he habitually wears a haunted air), Goerne is less convincing when a certain lightness of touch is needed. While not many of his chosen songs require him to smile, one that surely does is the wistful barcarolle Des Fischers Liebesglück, whose fisherman in question sounds thoroughly depressed. It is the same in Der Jüngling am Bache, where Goerne's slow, doleful performance suggests hopeless resignation rather than the tremulous expectancy implied by poem and music.” The Telegraph, 28th April 2008

“Goerne's renowned breath control … creates the hushed legato which is his hallmarl. This comes into its own in the Mayrhofer and Leitner settings, creating the mesmeric lilt of water and of light.” BBC Music Magazine, May 2008 ****

“His voice has a melting allure that draws you in completely to the sentiments of the song, and the disarming beauty of Schubert's music. These performances glow in various lights, rounding off a truly excellent first volume of an ongoing Schubert series.” The Scotsman

“Following Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau nearly 40 years on, Goerne is in his element, singing with his distinctive dark, rounded beauty and almost tortured intensity of thought and feeling. More than almost any other Lieder singer today, he combines expressive diction with an unblemished legato, "bowing" Schubert's long lines like a master cellist (shades here of the great Hans Hotter). In their mingled majesty and aching tenderness, Goerne's performances of two great Mayrhofer settings, Memon and Lied eines Schiffers an die Dioskuren, are as moving as any performances I can remember.” The Telegraph, 26 April 2008 Classical CD of the Week

“Matthias Goerne is fast becoming the Fischer-Dieskau of his generation, the standard-setting singer of the central lieder repertoire.” International Record Review

“'Do you know of any happy music?' Schubert once asked a friend. 'I don't.' Those words could stand as an epigraph to Matthias Goerne's opening salvo in a projected 11- or 12-disc survey of Schubert Lieder. Evanescence, elegy and yearning for a transcendent otherness are the keynotes of a programme that encompasses the Attic majesty and terribilità of 'Memnon' and 'Gruppe aus dem Tartarus', the disillusioned fatalism of 'Der Pilgrim' and the philosophical grandeur of 'Grenzen der Menschenheit'. In these songs Goerne, with his distinctive dark, velvet timbre, is in his element. An intense, almost tortured concentration of thought and feeling has always been his hallmark, as has an unblemished legato. The way he bows Schubert's long lines like a cellist is reminiscent of the great Hans Hotter.
Goerne's rich bass resonances are heard to advantage in a performance of 'Grenzen der Menschenheit' that embraces aching tenderness as well as deep, rolling gravitas. 'Memnon' – a typical Mayrhofer allegory of the artist as tragic outsider – is equally spellbinding, illuminated by telling details like the lingering portamento on 'liebend' – 'lovingly' – as dawn's rays break through the mists. And when have the hazardous leaps of another allegorical Mayrhofer song, 'Freiwilliges Versinken been negotiated with such smoothness and hypnotic eloquence.
Where doubts creep in is in the handful of songs where, pace Schubert's own words, a certain lightness of tone and spirit is implied, but Goerne's involvement is so palpable and his style so scrupulous. For two-thirds and more of this recital the interpretative rewards are uncommonly rich, with the baritone well complemented by Elisabeth Leonskaja's deep-toned (if on occasion over-pedalled), often orchestrally conceived accompaniments.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Try the first few minutes of Quartets Nos2 and 3, and marvel at the gradation of forte and fortissimo, of piano and pianissimo, which helps to give entire movements far more convincing shape than less precisely observant ensembles achieve. In short, the Belceas are more than worthy rivals to the best on disc.” Gramophone Magazine, May 2008

“The playing in these endlessly fascinating and rewarding pieces is supremely accomplished. Distinguished Bartók cycles in recent years include those by the Alban Berg (EMI), Emerson (DG) and the Takács Quartets - but none more vividly conveys the music's visceral excitement.” BBC Music Magazine, March 2008 *****

“Bartók's quartets are one of the great musical collision points between modernism and romanticism.
How to handle the tension between their expressive gestures and constructivist designs is one of the abiding issues for performers and one reason why even the plethora of fine available recordings cannot remotely exhaust their riches. Getting the best of all worlds interpretatively is hardly a realistic aim. Even so, there are long stretches where the Belceas come as close to the ideal as any ensemble on disc.
Try the first few minutes of Quartets Nos 2 and 3, and marvel at the gradation of forte and fortissimo, of piano and pianissimo, which helps to give entire movements far more convincing shape than less precisely observant ensembles achieve. Try the outer movements of No 5 and marvel at the gear-changes negotiated smoothly, instantly and unanimously, yet never as ends in themselves, always accompanied by a sense of expressive-dramatic purpose. Try virtually every movement in fact, and revel, as the Belceas do, in the interplay of the lines, even in passages where others seem thankful just to come through unscathed.
Clearly immense thought has been given to tone quality. In the first movement of No 1, for instance, the Belceas point the periodic arrivals on consonant harmonies by withdrawing vibrato, and instantly the as yet not fully mature Bartók's straggly structure gains sharpness of profile.
They apply the same ploy in the much tauter environment of the first movement of No 5, and with similarly revelatory results. At the other extreme, their sustained tonal intensity makes the most barbaric onrushes exhilarating rather than exhausting, neither too streamlined nor too effortful. When the score is bare of instructions, as in the first slow movement of No 5, they take it at its word and uncover a hypnotic, staring blankness. And when the invitation to humour is extended, as in the finale of the same quartet, they seize it with full-blooded, yet never selfserving, relish.
Before surrendering to the power of these performances, one wondered if there was going to be enough ethnic tang and zest, enough wildness and strangeness, enough sultry longing.
We've certainly heard more of those qualities in the first two quartets. Yet the central movement of No 2 is marked molto capriccioso, not barbaro, and that's exactly what comes across, while the coda is pushed daringly close to the edge, sounding like the distant fluttering of giant moths – not as precisely by the book as the Emersons but vastly more imaginative and emotionally telling – while the slow finale has a superbly intense accumulation at its heart.
Pushed for a general reservation, perhaps when a 'speaking' quality is needed in the quasirecitatives, the first violin's colleagues don't quite match her for idiomatic insight. And do the Belceas get to the heart of the matter in the trauma-shaded No 6? Not quite – not by comparison with The Lindsays, anyway, who are generally more prepared to tolerate rough edges for the sake of emotional revelation.
In short, the Belceas are more than worthy rivals to the best on disc and EMI's recording quality is just right.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Clarity is a given with this particular band (their coupling of Symphonies Nos2 and 4 has already proved that) and here the same impressions of transparency, watertight ensemble, dovetailed phrasing and buoyant rhythms pertain.” Gramophone Magazine, May 2008

“To call a performance 'well made' might seem like a half-hearted compliment but in the case of Thomas Dausgaard's account of the Spring Symphony it's only part of the story, albeit a very important part. Clarity is a given with this particular band and here the same impressions of transparency, watertight ensemble, dovetailed phrasing and buoyant rhythms pertain.
The first movement is kept on its toes and 'in tempo', and likewise the Scherzo where the Trios are skilfully integrated into the rest of the movement, the first of them opening, unusually, to a gently brushed legato. The Larghetto is streamlined without sounding cold, the important horn and pizzicato string parts always crystal-clear, whereas the finale's prime virtue is its judicious pacing, especially the idyllic horn passage just after the halfway point, and the symphony's closing pages, which are thrillingly played.
Dausgaard's understanding of tempo relations is even better demonstrated in the Zwickau movement of an early G minor symphony.
There are reminders of early Schubert and Bruckner in that rays of light are crossed with moments of darkness, for example the unresolved bassoon motif that closes the exposition, very imaginative (and unsettling), and so is the return of the stern introduction towards the end of the movement.
The Mendelssohnian Overture, Scherzo andFinale is again beautifully shaped, the introduction unusually pensive, the ensuing Allegro full of life, the Scherzo crisp but unhurried. The two relatively late overtures again benefit from smaller-than-usual orchestral forces and perceptive direction, Dausgaard generating bags of energy while allowing textures to breathe. So all we need now is an equally compelling Rhenish Symphony to round off the cycle. The recorded sound is superb.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Right from the opening fanfares, there's a sense of joy and exhilaration, and the openness of the orchestral textures brings freshness and clarity. The ensemble’s lithe flexibility is used to the full by Dausgaard, whose instincts on tempo are persuasive, and the dramatic tension underpinning the work isn't allowed to evaporate.” Andrew McGregor, bbc.co.uk, 7th March 2008

“Antoni Wit conducts his Warsaw forces in exceptionally warm and idiomatic performances of these two exotic symphonies, vividly recorded. They make an important addition to the Naxos catalogue….an outstanding issue.” Gramophone Magazine, May 2008

“Szymanowski's Symphony No. 2 shows him beginning to approach his first maturity as a composer… In Symphony No. 3, composed five years later, the mature Szymanowski has arrived. Again, this is very fine performance with all the big structural gestures well judged and the wealth of orchestral detail lovingly etched.” BBC Music Magazine, August 2008 ****

“deliriously sensual scores” Classic FM Magazine

“Antoni Wit conducts his Warsaw forces in exceptionally warm and idiomatic performances of these two exotic symphonies, vividly recorded.
They make an important addition to the Naxos catalogue. The more immediately attractive is No 3, subtitled Song of the Night, with its tenor solo and chorus adding to its impact. The poem which the tenor sings has the refrain 'Do not sleep friend' and builds to the most powerful climax with Szymanowski's love of exotic orchestral colours exploited to the full. The thrust and passion of Wit's performance, splendidly supported by the clear-voiced tenor and the chorus, is impossible to resist, and leads to a second movement with hints of birdsong followed by a slow finale, a deep meditation.
The performance of No 2 in two movements, an opening Allegro followed by an extended set of variations, is equally persuasive. Again the first movement is passionate and thrustful and the variations bring some fascinating contrasts, ending with a powerful fugue. Antoni Wit's performance could not be more idiomatic, with singers and players totally inside the music. An outstanding issue.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Merbeth is supremely well prepared and on top of this repertoire, and the Weimar orchestra, cliché to say but true, have the sound of Strauss's music still in their blood.” Gramophone Magazine, May 2008

“Ricarda Merbeth, a regular Marschallin in Vienna and exponent of other big Strauss roles in Europe, has also been Bayreuth's Elisabeth for the past six years – just as Pauline de Ahna, Strauss's wife and first muse of song, once was.
There's something both idiomatic and old-fashioned about these performances. Here is neither the ample, creamy sound of a Jessye Norman nor the studied, polished art of the Schwarzkopf/ Legge camp nor the quasi-vocalise of a Janowitz, but rather a welcome, word-conscious directness and emotive agility that is natural and refreshing, and reminiscent of an earlier school of Strausssinging – Lotte Lehmann, Viorica Ursuleac.
The Op 68 Brentano Lieder of 1918 – never programmed enough – are hair-raisingly difficult for the singer in terms of both tessitura and line in their original piano versions. Given in the complex (and quite weighty) orchestrations to which Strauss devoted much energy in later life, they become even more demanding. 'Lied der Frauen wenn die Männer im Kriege sind' ('Women's Song when the Men are away at War') is eight minutes-plus of high drama in instrumental clothing that deliberately harks back to Salome, Elektra and Die Frau ohne Schatten (it's also highly possible that the events of 1933, the year of this version, impinged on the emotional temperature).
The five other songs in the group become enticing orchestral children of their contempo- rary operas Daphne and Capriccio. Merbeth is supremely well prepared and on top of this repertoire, and the Weimar orchestra, cliché to say but true, have the sound of Strauss's music still in their blood. Halász, a regular collaborator of the soprano's, beds down in the tempi of 'Im Abendrot' a little too much but his singer can more than handle that. Natural, unplush sound, aptly matching the music-making.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Ton Koopman completes the exquisite solo oeuvre by Buxtehude with captivating élan. Witness the sheer richness of Buxtehude's luminous textures, as well as the finely drawn and grateful melodic contours.” Gramophone Magazine, May 2008

“Performing on two copies of Stefanini and Ruckers harpsichords, Ton Koopman completes the exquisite solo oeuvre by Buxtehude with captivating élan. For a musician with somewhat precipitous tendencies, Koopman here delivers a considered programme of mainly standard four-movement suites, interpolated with other contemporaneous genres, from variations to the flamboyance of the 'stylus phantasticus' of toccatas and the like.
Koopman's most significant achievement is the poetry he brings to Buxtehude's cultivated and understated world of pre-Telemann domestic music. This is where the Suites appear as the apogee of a tradition which Froberger honed and which Bach extended in his early works.
Indeed, keen ears will notice the prescient melodic seeds of the English Suites and, more specifically, the Canzona in C whose turns perhaps inspired the ambitious young Turk in the Capriccio in E (BWV993).
That aside, witness the sheer richness of Buxtehude's luminous textures, as well as the finely drawn and grateful melodic contours. The opening Aria in C (with 10 variations) reveals the warmth of both Buxtehude's hypnotically life-affirming variations and Koopman's concentrated placement and esprit.
Within such compositional calibre and refinement, Koopman also explores a steeliness in the investigative lines of the fine C major Suite which concludes the first disc; as throughout, the tempo relationships between movements are thoughtfully rendered, with the 'gamey' meantone tuning and elegant characterisation all conspiring towards a notable 'world premiere' set of harpsichord recordings. In sum, an outstanding release in this enterprising series.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010