In these love songs in waltz style for chorus or solo voices accompanied by piano four hands, Brahms freely indulged his taste for Viennese folk music. The RIAS-Kammerchor instils a wonderful inner life in these musical landscapes, sometimes cheerful, sometimes melancholy, punctuated here by a selection from the Hungarian Dances – also eminently popular in their inspiration. © harmonia mundi

This recording landed on classical best-seller lists in the autumn of 2023, and several factors combined to place it there. One is the sensitive ensemble work throughout from the trio of violinist Veronika Jarůšková, cellist Peter Jarůšek, and pianist Boris Giltburg. Jarůšková and Jarůšek are members of the fine Pavel Haas Quartet, but the trio, as such, is quite new, and Giltburg, moreover, is better known for virtuoso repertory than for chamber music. One would never know it from the seamlessly executed conceptions and transitions, with Giltburg in no way spilling out of the texture. Another factor is the presence of the first two Dvořák trios, early but by no means immature works. Recordings of them are not common, but hear the absolutely characteristic opening of the Piano Trio No. 1 in B flat major, Op. 21, with its pentatonic melody; handled as sensitively as it is here by Jarůšková, the work is the equal of any of the later trios. Lastly, there is the fresh reading of the Piano Trio, Op. 90 ("Dumky"), one of Dvořák's most popular works. Several movements receive interesting interpretations. Consider the beginning, where the Lento maestoso designation is applied to the movement as a whole, with the opening chords kept consistent in tempo with what follows. This diverts the emotional center to the beautifully sad counterpoint between the cello and violin as the movement continues. The sound from the Wyastone Estate is warm but a bit close up, one of few complaints, and this is a major chamber music release that will yield a great deal of satisfying listening.© James Manheim /TiVo

For most listeners' purposes, Riccardo Chailly's set of Johannes Brahms' four symphonies will seem standard-issue, with respectable and uncontroversial interpretations from an esteemed conductor, and rich and resonant performances by the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. Even in the choice of filler pieces, the set includes the three orchestral works that are usually packaged with the symphonies: the Tragic Overture, the Haydn Variations, and the Academic Festival Overture. However, this set offers welcome suprises and extra value for the purchase. Two orchestral arrangements of the Interludes, Opp. 116 and 117 for piano, are included, along with instrumental versions of a handful of Liebeslieder Waltzes and three of the orchestrated Hungarian Dances, which may be incentives to listeners who are looking for a little more. Also included are Brahms' original version of the Andante of the First Symphony and the alternate opening of the Fourth. But no one should invest in a set solely on the basis of these extras, however unusual they may be. Since first recording the cycle with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, where he offered a rather heavy-handed modern take on the symphonies, Chailly has gone back to an older, more historically informed style of playing Brahms that was familiar to conductors of the early 20th century. The music is lighter and more transparent, so in some ways, his recordings are sometimes reminiscent of classic performances by Bruno Walter, George Szell, and other revered conductors. For traditionalists, this is a fine set to own, especially if a fresh digital recording is needed.© TiVo

After two glorious albums devoted to Chopin and Liszt, Benjamin Grosvenor continues his exploration of the Romantic period by tackling the third leading faction of the genre, Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms (who was a close friend of both the Schumann’s). The Kreisleriana, like many of Schumann’s other cycles, are a virtuosic reflection on his artistic 'doubles'; Eusebius, the melancholic dreamer, and Florestan, the feverish and passionate rake. The Three Romances Op.28 expresses Schumann's eternal and unconditional love for Clara, who saw in these pieces "the most beautiful love dialogues". In the last movement of the Sonata No. 3 Op.14, Schumann makes an elegant reference to his own Kreisleriana. Clara Wieck's Variations on a Theme of Schumann later inspired Brahms to write his own variations on the same theme. There are similarities in character to his Intermezzi at the end of the album. With his singular and unmistakable touch, Benjamin Grosvenor delivers an interpretation of unadulterated purity, with a simple and luminous audio recording that gives these great passages their deserved nobility. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

All of the principals here were close associates of the late pianist Lars Vogt, and this Ondine release, which landed on classical best-seller charts in the autumn of 2023, is intended as a tribute to him. Vogt loved Brahms, and the main attraction is a performance of the Double Concerto in A minor for violin, cello, and orchestra, Op. 102, by Christian Tetzlaff, Tanja Tetzlaff, and the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin under the usually somewhat cerebral conductor Paavo Järvi, who turns in quite a passionate performance here. The Double Concerto is structured unlike anything else Brahms (or really anyone else) ever wrote, opening with quasi-improvisatory passages in the cello and then the violin that are reconciled and brought within a Classical structure as the movement proceeds. The Tetzlaffs, in an interview-format booklet, suggest that the opening represents the feuding Brahms and violinist Joseph Joachim, for whom the concerto was meant as a kind of peace offering. Whatever the actual case, the idea results in a performance of considerable tension. Also figuring into the biographical interpretation is the inclusion of Giovanni Battista Viotti's Violin Concerto No. 22 in A minor, which at first glance may seem an odd pairing. The work was a favorite of both Brahms and Viotti, and hints of Viotti's music seem to recur in the Brahms concerto, again as a kind of peace offering or, it has been suggested, a subconscious reference. The album ends with a warm performance by Tanja Tetzlaff of Silent Woods from Dvořák's From the Bohemian Forest, Op. 68, not directly connected to the biographical theme but full of a spirit of calm reconciliation. It is a fine conclusion to a powerful album. © James Manheim /TiVo

When I can’t be the only one who has the Pavel Haas Quartet’s magnificent Dvořák quintets collaboration with Boris Giltburg and Pavel Nikl still ringing in my ears (and indeed making repeat returns to my stereo), I equally can’t be the only one whose heart is beating faster upon first sight of this Brahms-shaped reunion for them. So, to all of you for whom the above does indeed apply, know that these readings will if anything exceed your already-high expectations. First up is the Op. 34 Piano Quintet in dark F minor, an early-career work which began life in 1862 as a string quintet with two cellos, channelling Schubert’s great C major String Quintet, but which ultimately – at the suggestion of both Clara Schumann and Joseph Joachim – needed a second look. In 1864, therefore, Brahms reworked the original to create both a sonata for two pianos and this piano quartet – drawing from Beethoven’s “Appassionata” Sonata, while also still very audibly paying homage to the Schubert Quintet, heard especially clearly at the close of the Scherzo via its final C being preceded by a dramatic D-flat. As for the Pavel Haas Quartet and Boris Giltburg, think multi-timbred, metrically fleet-footed, heart-filled playing, spanning the dynamic range, which thoroughly realises both the work’s turbulent passion and its highly symphonic feel, with the ability to switch the emotional dial in a heartbeat. Highlights include an absolute blinder of a Scherzo for the conviction of its emotional extremes, and at its most high-octane moments the rhythmic drive and spring of their attack, and the overall sound’s satisfyingly powerful, woody thwack. Then next we jump to 1890 and to the Op. 111 two-viola String Quintet in G major Brahms is said to have initially intended as his last musical work, its language thus nodding to his musical life’s influences – from Beethoven to Schubert, and from waltzing Johann Strauss to Wagner, with further colour by way of the Hungarian motifs he loved to pepper his work with. And again, it’s a rare treat to have such a sensation of unbridled freedom and singing exuberance at the music’s most impassioned climaxes as we have here. Equally affecting are the moments where the music suddenly retreats into whispers either sweetly tender or darkly tragic (head to the first movement for some beauty). There’s also the delicious rhythmic swing of their dance impetus when things get folky. Essentially, don’t hesitate. This is an album for life. © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz

By the early 1890s, Johannes Brahms began thinking that his career was approaching its end, perhaps because of his growing awareness of his mortality, due to the deaths of several close friends. In spite of that, encouragement from Brahms' publisher Fritz Simrock and a renewed burst of creativity brought about the major works of his final years, which included chamber pieces for clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld; a collection of arrangements of German Folk Songs; the Four Serious Songs; the 11 Chorale Preludes; and the piano pieces published as the Fantasias, Op. 116, the Intermezzos, Op. 117, the Clavierstücke, Op. 118, and the Clavierstücke, Op. 119. This group of 20 keyboard pieces collectively represent the autumnal and sometimes gloomy moods that dominated Brahms' thoughts in his last decade, and have even retroactively colored the overall character his music, suggesting a nostalgic attitude in his work as a whole. Yet there is a balance between melancholy and exuberance in Brahms, and while much can be made of the sorrowful events in his life that influenced him, particularly in the Intermezzos, Op. 117 (which he considered to be lullabies for his sorrows), expressions in the late piano music are artfully conceived and perhaps less a measure of Brahms' emotional state than of his genius. Stephen Hough has recorded Brahms' piano concertos, and some of the chamber works, but this 2019 Hyperion album is his first album since 2001 devoted to Brahms' solo piano works. At this stage of his career, Hough seems to have found the right approach to these character pieces, which can be just as fiery and passionate as they are sad or sentimental. However, just as important are their structures and formal designs, which show an active and lively imagination, especially in Brahms' use of chromatic harmony and his sometimes expansive treatment of the Romantic "miniature."© TiVo

The death of Bernard Haitink in 2021 has hardly slowed the flow of releases in which he is featured, and their generally impressive quality is a testimony to what has been lost with his passing. Haitink first conducted the Bavarian Radio Symphony in 1958, and by the time this live recording of Shostakovich's Symphony No. 8 in C minor, Op. 65, was made at Munich's Philharmonie im Gasteig in 2006, the orchestra had evolved into a supple instrument that could follow his every move. The string section is luminous, the winds, individual voices against a storm of gathering chaos, beautifully sculpted. One might not pick the straightforward Haitink as a Shostakovich (or, if one prefers, Schostakowitsch) interpreter, but here, his straightforwardness and steely control over the long musical line serve the work well. The Eighth is perhaps the most Mahlerian of Shostakovich's symphonies (with the possible exception of the sardonic Symphony No. 15 in A minor, Op. 141), and its multiple meanings will take care of themselves if a strong overall framework is provided. That happens here; the symphony's hour-plus length seems almost too short. Most of the great recordings of this work are Russian, but listeners owe it to themselves to hear this splendid version, with impressive live sound from Bavarian Radio's engineers.© James Manheim /TiVo

Brahms's masterclass in symphonic variation. Herbert Blomstedt and the Gewandhausorchester Leipzig close their acclaimed Pentatone Brahms cycle with the composer’s Third and Fourth Symphonies. Compared to the epic First and gloomily pastoral Second, Brahms’s Third Symphony is a glorious exploration of the chamber-musical possibilities of the symphony orchestra. While musical variation of elementary motifs already plays an important role in this work, Brahms shows his absolute mastery of that technique even more impressively in the Fourth. Blomstedt’s keen eye for analytical detail never goes at the cost of the music’s emotional resonance, and the Gewandhausorchester plays these symphonies glowingly, demonstrating their extraordinary ensemble sound. Blomstedt’s work as a conductor is inseparably linked to his religious and human ethos, and his interpretations combine great faithfulness to the score and analytical precision with a soulfulness that awakens the music to pulsating life. ©: Pentatone