This release by the Danish String Quartet is part of a five-album series titled "Prism," each of which will apparently include three works: an arrangement of a Bach fugue for string quartet, one of Beethoven's five late quartets, and a 20th century work that somehow lies in the shadow of both, or, to use the quartet's own words, "a beam of music is split through Beethoven's prism." In this case, the program is unusually coherent, with the String Quartet No. 3 of Alfred Schnittke engaging itself directly with the Beethoven String Quartet No. 13 in B flat major, Op. 130, and Grosse Fuge, Op. 133, here played as the finale of the String Quartet No. 13 as Beethoven originally conceived the work. Logically, the Beethoven should go in the middle, but after you hear the Danish String Quartet's blistering performance of the String Quartet No. 13, you'll agree that it would be an impossible act to follow. The group gets just how radical this quartet was, especially with the Grosse Fuge in place, as sharp contrasts grow throughout the work and explode in the unthinkably intense fugue. The quartet takes the first movements of the six-movement work very rapidly, with the lighter melodic passages seeming like passing thoughts, takes a deep pause with the Cavatina slow movement, and then plunges into the fugue at top power. They are aided by magnificent engineering work from ECM, working on the Reitstadel Neumarkt, a riding stadium with famed acoustics. The Schnittke quartet is a fascinating work in itself, quoting the Beethoven extensively and exploring its sharp contrasts (sample the Agitato middle movement). One awaits the rest of the Danish String Quartet's series breathlessly, but it's possible that this volume, with a Beethoven performance for the ages, will tower over the rest. A bonus is a set of notes by the great Paul Griffiths, writing mostly for ECM these days.© TiVo

With the big yellow sticker above his piano, Grigory Sokolov’s last recital resembles Deutsche Grammophon’s album covers from the 1960s during the golden age of the LP and stereophony. It must be said that the Russian pianist today is similar to the iconic pianists that once made up the famous German label’s catalogue: Wilhelm Kempff, Sviatoslav Richter, Emil Gilels and Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, or among those still playing today, Maurizio Pollini and Martha Argerich. Unpredictable, mystifying and often brilliant, Sokolov offers us here the echoes of three recitals given in 2019 in quite similar (and a little reverberant) acoustics, in Zaragoza, Wuppertal, and Rabbi in the province of Trento (Italian Tyrol). Three evenings, three countries and three great evenings where inspiration was in the air. An enemy of any commentary surrounding his programmes, shying away from the media and any opinions on his playing, the Russian pianist reserves his rare concerts for solo recitals in Europe, fearing travel and the stress of jet lag, which has not prevented him from memorizing an incredible amount of airline schedules off by heart. We should listen to this as one listens to a sage, from Beethoven’s Sonata No. 3 played with sovereign detachment and a clear and flowing conduct imbued with chaste poetry. Sokolov then excels in the precious miniatures, the Eminent Bagatelles Op. 119, in which Beethoven displays an admirable conciseness, concentrating both his energy and the strength of the language from the composer’s later period. Sokolov previously recorded Brahms in France in 1994 for the now-closed label Opus 111. Here he is at the top of his game with the compositions Klavierstücke Op. 118 and Op. 119, written by an older Brahms. Sokolov brings out the poignant and never-too-sad melancholy, sometimes breaking the impulses while knowing how to abandon himself and give these sublime pieces an improvised feel. The seven encores (Schubert, Rameau, Brahms, Schubert and Debussy) that close this splendid album are finely chiselled jewels generously offered to the three lucky, transfixed and attentive audiences. © François Hudry/Qobuz

Supraphon made these recordings for Nippon Columbia within a short timeframe, from June 1983 to April 1984, at the Rudolfinum in Prague. They capture the mature ensemble when it included the pianist Josef Hála, who in 1980 had replaced Jan Panenka. The trio’s sound was dominated by the strings, primarily the violin of Josef Suk, who also defined the interpretation principles. The singularity of the ensemble and their recordings alike rests in infallible technique, sonic refinement, admirable interplay and profound musicality devoid of any showboating. © Supraphon

Comprised of pianist Pauline Chenais, violinist Clémence de Forceville and cellist Angèle Legasa, Trio Sōra may well be a new name to many Qobuz listeners, when this is a debut album. That said, the name is likely to ring bells for anyone who keeps an eye on Europe's various young artist programmes and festival academies, because this young French ensemble's notable achievements of recent years include the Special Prize of the Verbier Festival Academy in 2018, and in 2020 a Borletti-Buitoni Trust Fellowship. Spread across three opus numbers, Beethoven's piano trios begin with the three-strong Op. 1 set, published in 1795 when he was in his mid-twenties, and stylistically still firmly rooted in the Viennese Classicism of Haydn. However Romanticism is thoroughly in the picture by the time he returned to the genre in 1808, shortly after completing the “Pastoral” Symphony No. 6, penning the Op. 70 pair with its famous “Ghost” Trio No. 1. Finally there's the grand Op. 97 “Archduke” Trio of 1811 - technically another middle period work, but one which with the almost symphonic scope of its four movements and complex emotional world feels feels well ahead of its time. What Trio Sōra bring to the set is immensely enjoyable. In performance practice terms, these are broadly “modern” readings, employing unobtrusive vibrato, and even subtle portamento at the most Romantic and impassioned end of the set. Beethoven's stormy switchings on the flip of a coin between dynamic extremes are realised with both clarity and charm: pianissimos are true whispers, and while sforzandos and fortissimos come with punch, it's never at the expense of beauty of tone; with the Opus 1 set in particular, Viennese elegance reigns supreme. As a result, the impression across the set is overwhelmingly of lightness of touch, sprightly and precise articulation. Yet don't interpret that description as “one flavour”, because these readings are anything but; not least because these three musicians are not shy about making this music their own. Take the “Archduke” Scherzo, where playful metrical tugs and pushes, and the odd slight second-beat emphasis, sometimes create an almost off-kilter effect, which then serves as a brilliant foil to other sections of rhythmically steady, joyous swing. Also mention-worthy is the poetry and technical aplomb with which Pauline Chenais rises to the demanding piano role, her tone beguilingly soft-focus and pearly one moment, and brightly crisp the next. A strong first recording. Bravo! © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz

Following his recordings on Deutsche Grammophon of music by Frédéric Chopin and Franz Liszt, Chinese pianist Yundi Li takes on the three most popular piano sonatas of Ludwig van Beethoven, the "Pathétique," "Moonlight," and "Appassionata." Known for having brilliant technique and dynamic showmanship, Yundi plays against type in these beloved works, which call for more introspection and expressiveness than might be expected from him. Even though the outer movements of "Pathétique" and "Appassionata" and the last movement of "Moonlight" give Yundi ample opportunity to demonstrate his agility, power, and high energy, they are relatively restrained, compared to the kind of virtuosic fare that made him an international star. Furthermore, the Classical impulse that informed these sonatas calls for a balance of moods, not just bravura playing. The slow movements let Yundi show he is more than just a flashy technician, and he gives carefully considered performances that work, albeit as fairly Romantic readings. Because Beethoven's piano sonatas have been interpreted and recorded by pianists too numerous to count, it's easy to dismiss performances that fall short of the great recordings of the past, especially any that seem addressed to a mainstream audience. Yundi's CD will not impress connoisseurs who have already settled on their favorite recordings, though casual listeners may like what Yundi does with the music and learn more about Beethoven as a result.© TiVo

First of all, what a line-up of Berlin's top musicians and regular collaborators Emmanuel Pahud has assembled here: Daniel Barenboim on piano; Pahud's fellow Berlin Philharmonic principals, concertmaster Daishin Kashimoto and violist Amihai Grosz; flautist Silvia Careddu, founder member of the Alban Berg Ensemble Wien; and Sophie Dervaux, former Berlin Philharmonic Principal Contrabassoon and now Principal Bassoon of the Vienna State Opera Orchestra and Vienna Philharmonic. Plus, they've recorded in Berlin's Pierre Boulez Saal, i.e. one of the best possible places to hear chamber music, with its stunning combination of warmth and clarity. Moving on to the musical contents, and Beethoven's slim body of chamber works for flute is all confined to his early career. In fact so early that two of the works here date from his Bonn period (during his late teens and early twenties) as a piano teacher and court musician: the posthumously published Trio in G for piano, flute and bassoon of 1786, and the Allegro and Minuet in G WoO 26 for two flutes of 1792, written for his law student friend, J.M. Degenharth, and featuring a dedication page playfully informing the reader that it was written “in the evening”. Also on the menu is the Serenade in D Op. 25 for flute, violin and viola, sketched in 1797 and completed in 1801. What this means in stylistic and mood terms is sunnily charming entertainment music cast firmly in Beethoven's earliest post-Haydn language, and far removed from the emotional turbulence of his later years; in other words, absolutely perfect music to be gifted with at the dog end of Covid-wrecked 2020, and especially when the playing from everyone is so joyously elegant, crisp, bright and responsive. Still, Pahud clearly thought that a little more meat was required for the curtain raiser. So all the above is preceded by his own flute transcription of the “Little G Major” Sonata in G for violin and piano of 1802: still a sunnily carefree world, but equally a sparkingly sharp-witted one, piling on fresh interest at every turn. It also sits very well on the flute, so perhaps further transcriptions might come our way in the future via Pahud's hand. In the meantime, from this one we can enjoy the dainty athletic pep and lucid textures Pahud and Barenboim bring to its outer movements, the lyric grace and sensitivity of their central Tempo di Menuetto, and overall Barenboim's deft shaping, and in partnership terms their mutual sensitivity and sense of equality. In short, a great addition to the Beethoven recordings catalogue. © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz

A true ‘apotheosis of the dance’ in the words of Richard Wagner, Beethoven’s Seventh has enjoyed perennial popularity ever since its premiere - unlike his sole ballet, The Creatures of Prometheus, of which only the overture has remained (more or less) familiar to us. To offer a new version of a key work in Beethoven’s corpus while reviving the complete version of one of his most unjustly forgotten masterpieces: such is the challenge brilliantly taken up by the musicians of the Freiburger Barockorchester, under the direction of their Konzertmeister Gottfried von der Goltz. © harmonia mundi