Japanese-British pianist Mitsuko Uchida continues to impress with recordings that are not so much intellectual as simply well thought out, making a challenging yet extremely satisfying overall impression. Consider the three works by Robert Schumann recorded here. Only the Waldszenen, Op. 82 (Forest Scenes), are well known. The Piano Sonata No. 2 in G minor, Op. 22, is an early but not immature work, composed in 1830 and supplied with a new finale in 1838 at the suggestion of Clara Schumann, who pointed out that while she could play the original version, few others would be able to. There is already plenty to chew on here, for Schumann incorporates motivic links to the first movement in the new finale. Clara was lukewarm about the work (calling it "not too incomprehensible"), but Schumann himself thought highly of it. The genesis of the work is fascinating; it began with a song Schumann composed in his student days, and Schumann incorporated it into an inner voice of the slow movement. Rather like Beethoven's theater music, it does have the feel of an innovative composer's ideas being forced into an older mold. But Uchida, with her precise yet explosive style, is the perfect interpreter of the work, which seems to spill over the boundaries of sonata form with quasi-improvisatory ideas. Her performance connects the work to the rest of the output of the young Schumann in an ideal way. Also interesting are the Gesänge der Frühe, Op. 133 (Dawn Songs), one of the last things Schumann finished before going insane: they are strangely serene little miniatures. The Waldszenen themselves are full of fresh, even daring interpretations. Decca's engineering staff outdoes itself with its capture of an ideal sound environment for the work: not the usual concert hall or studio but the well-known audiophile venue the Reitstadel in the German city of Neumarkt. An essential Schumann release.© TiVo

Like the growth of the cult of Christ, the growth of the cult of Mahler started with the man himself performing his works whenever and wherever he had the chance. Like Christ, Mahler was followed by true believers who had known him and who proselytized for him among the unbelievers with the fervor of musical Pentecostals. The true believers were followed by those who had never known the man himself but whose belief was therefore all the more passionate and subjective. And thus it was that the faith spread from Mahler to Walter, Klemperer, and Mengelberg; and then on to Mitropoulos, Bernstein, Kubelik, Solti, and Haitink; then on to Abbado, Bertini, Boulez, de Waart, Inbal, Maazel, and Rattle, spreading from the true believers to the passionate believers of the true believers to those who still keep the belief but whose faith is more reason than emotion, more intellect than spirit, more nuance than rapture. In this Hanssler Mahler cycle, Michael Gielen leads the SWF Sinfonieorchester Baden-Baden and Freiburg in rational, reserved, and respectable performances, performances that mute Mahler's agony and mask his ecstasy, performances that believe in the sublimity of Mahler, but with more head and mind than with heart and soul. The SWR Sinfonie plays more than capably if somewhat less than virtuosically and Hanssler's sound is open and full. But while Gielen is certainly a fine fourth-generation Mahler conductor, his restraint, his inability, or his unwillingness to surrender himself to the awesome, the immense, the infinite, and the eternal of Mahler's music prohibits him from leading truly compelling and passionately convincing performances. For truly compelling and passionately convincing fourth-generation Mahler, try Claudio Abbado. He'll beatify you, exorcise you, and sanctify you, but he'll never, ever lie to you. © TiVo

The Concerti of the violinist-composer Francesco Venturini (c.1675-1745) are a real discovery - melodious, virtuosic, elegant and dance-like, combining Italian and French stylistic elements to form a "mixed taste", as Telemann described this "mélange". Inspired by the pulsating cultural and intellectual life at the Hanoverian court, Venturini wrote ambitious orches­tral music full of joie de vivre, defined by numerous concertato passages for both wind and string instruments. His works feature a rich diversity of - sometimes unusual - colours: as his concerto soloists, he chooses not only combinations of one or two oboes, recorders and violins, but also two bassoons and two cellos, or even an oboe, two recorders and violin - the latter being a combination reminiscent of J.S. Bach's Brandenburg Concertos which were to be written a few years later. The release marks the beginning of the collaboration between audite and la festa musicale. The ensemble presents a representative cross section of Venturini's instrumental music: three orchestral suites from Opus 1, which was already published in print during his lifetime, as well as two discoveries from Swedish music collections; three works are presented as first recordings (Op. 1 No. 2, Ouverture à 5, Concerto à 6). The North German baroque ensemble la festa musicale stands for first rate artistic level, which is reflected in creative, interdisciplinary concert formats and top-class collaborations. The interpretations intensify the colourfulness of the works by means of instrumentation variations beyond the original score, in line with the common practice in the Baroque period, as well as by additional effects such as the use of percussion instruments. Two further audite productions with la festa musicale are already being planned. © Audite

One may well wonder why (or whether) a non-keyboard version of Bach's Goldberg Variations, BWV 988, arguably at the apex of the entire tradition of keyboard music, is at all needed. However, Baroque violinist Rachel Podger and Brecon Baroque member Chad Kelly, who "reimagined" the work (arranged is not a strong enough word), offer several justifications for their deployment of the Variations across various kinds of chamber music here. "Despite what many respected and respectful commentators have propagated," Kelly says, "it is not a sacrosanct work of pure, absolute and abstract art." Kelly seeks to use the varied settings to clarify Bach's counterpoint, to examine the musical influences that were in the air when Bach wrote the work, and to "be idiomatic to the historical instruments used in its performance and to the individual styles and genres referenced in the work." All this involves rewriting certain passages. That is a lot to ask, but generally, Kelly and Podger make it work. There are just 18 tracks, with several variations often combined into a little suite. This tends to deemphasize the tripartite structure of the variations, with a canon every third variation. Listeners can make up their own mind about that, but most will be impressed enough by the smooth Baroque winds in the slower variations, especially the crucial Adagio Variation 26, that they will be won over by this unorthodox effort. This release made classical best-seller charts in the autumn of 2023.© James Manheim /TiVo

Unfortunately no, dear reader, there is no such thing as a cycle of “24 Preludes” by Rachmaninoff; however there are indeed 24 Preludes: a collection of ten Op. 23 from 1903, 13 other Op. 32 from 1910 and one isolated Prelude from the Morceaux de fantaisie Op. 3 (Fantasy Pieces) from 1893. In total: 24 Preludes, in which as a simple count shows Rachmaninoff − much like Chopin and of course Bach − illustrated all major and minor tones. Deliberately random, or the involuntary drive to create a reasonably coherent cycle? Contrary to his two illustrious predecessors, Rachmaninoff didn’t order his Preludes according to a specific tonal plan: the musician’s fantasy develops bit by bit. Nikolai Lugansky – described by the famous magazine Gramophone as “the most innovative and transcendent interpreter of all” (so much for the others…), truly an extraordinarily deep and polyvalent pianist – decided to present the Preludes in the order prescribed by partitions, rather than reorganising them according to some hypothetical tonal logic, without knowing if Rachmaninoff would even have recommended or even considered it, particularly as the constant alternation of moods, independently of any tonal consideration, gives the piece a sense of perfect coherence. Finally it’s worth mentioning that Lugansky offers a very “original” interpretation of this divine music, which may feel like a re-discovery to some listeners. © SM/Qobuz

The late Beethoven recordings of pianist Mitsuko Uchida have been career makers, and it is cause for celebration that she has capped them with the 33 Variations on a Waltz by Diabelli, Op. 120, a work that perhaps poses deeper interpretive challenges than any of the late sonatas. The Variations often show a kind of rough humor, and a performer may pick up on that, or the player may deemphasize the humor and seek out the epic qualities of the Piano Sonata No. 30 in E major, Op. 109, and Piano Sonata No. 32 in C minor, Op. 111. Uchida does neither. The outlines of her usual style, high-contrast and a bit dry, are apparent, but she does not let them dominate her reading. What Uchida realizes is that the abrupt transition from humor to the deepest existential ruminations is part and parcel of Beethoven's late style, and she works to hone the particular character of each Beethoven variation. Her left hand, as usual, is strikingly powerful, and this brings out many striking details (consider the stirring variation 16). The trio of slow minor variations toward the end are given great seriousness but are not in the least overwrought; Uchida achieves an elusive Olympian tone through the final variations. There is much more to experience here, for each variation is fully thought out, but suffice it to say that this is one of the great performances of the Diabelli Variations.© TiVo

To record the Golberg Variations, the absolute pinnacle of western works on harpsichord and the apotheosis of the Baroque era, is the ultimate dream for many musicians. Lang Lang, who admits to have studied the fourth section of the Clavierübung by the Cantor of Leipzig for over twenty years, is no exception. This collection offers two interpretations of the same work. Firstly, a studio version, captured beautifully at the Berlin Jesus-Christus Kirche in March 2020 under the supervision of Christopher Alder, in which Lang Lang displays more measured tempos, particularly in the the initial aria and the first variation. This approach begins to animate itself more in the next section before the first variation in G minor which is slow, sluggish-sounding and unrelenting, taking on a stubborn and repetitive saraband rhythm - a remarkable conclusion to the first section. The outburst of the French Ouverture of Variation 16 is nothing short of spectacular. The following variations pass quickly before the second variation in G minor (Var. 21, Conone alla Settima.), with its very depressive phrasing, an imaginary Tombeau which momentarily instills an impressive gravity. Lang Lang nevertheless remains indifferent to the intrinsic structure of the Goldberg Variations, organised into ten successive groups of three variations with each group finishing with an increasingly complex canon (from the Var. 3’s Canone all’Unisono to Var.27’s Canone all Nona). For the Chinese pianist, his expressive heart seems to concentrate on the three minor key variations, and he doesn’t hesitate to project a Baroque expressionism that finishes the Golbergs with a touch of pathos and romanticism alongside a rounded and silky sound.The energy of the Leipzig public, on the 5 of March 2020, adds a welcome characteristic. During the concert, recorded by Philip Krause, who also accompanied Alder during his studio recording, Lang Lang has fun with the polyphony, beginning with the Aria. Here, he dances and injects subtle variations into the accents, thus opening up a wider and more diverse field of expression (Var. 1, Var. 7). Mischievous (Variation 23 has 2 harpsichords!), Lang Lang lets his imagination run rampant and the emotion that ensues is truly striking (Var. 21, with its obsessive delays). A certain weight is lifted, even in the way the harpsichord sounds, which bears witness to how the Chinese pianist’s sound has changed over the last fifteen years. © Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz

After well-received albums devoted to Bach and Schumann, pianist Piotr Anderszewski turns to music of his native Eastern Europe on this 2024 release, which made classical best-seller charts early that year. Anderszewski is known for his artfully curated and constructed programs, but this one is not so cohesive; the excerpts from Janáček's On an Overgrown Path set were recorded in 2016, while the short pieces by Szymanowski and Bartók were added in 2023. The Janáček works, though short, are of a slightly different kind from the other pieces, which are real miniatures. When Anderszewski gets to those, however, he hits his stride. Especially interesting are Bartók's 14 Bagatelles, Op. 6, presented in full. These aren't heard overly often. Anderszewski says that "the works recorded on this album carry within them a spirit of rebellion," which doesn't quite fit these short pieces, but then on his second try, he comes much closer: "No room here for stylization or decorum; they draw upon the very roots of music." Early works composed in 1908, they contain ideas that Bartók would explore over his entire career. They have folkish accents but also intensive exploration of mode and rhythm. Anderszewski's careful style is ideal here, and the listener hearing the whole set will become increasingly engrossed. Hardly less appealing are the six pieces from Szymanowski's 20 Mazurkas, Op. 50, which explore the folk dance model in a less radical but no less detailed way. For the lover of Eastern European music of the early 20th century, which is finally and rightfully finding a consistent place on concert programs, this is a recording that will merit multiple hearings.© James Manheim /TiVo