After recording Rachmaninov's 24 Preludes and a recital dedicated to Claude Debussy for his new publisher harmonia mundi, pianist Nikolai Lugansky extends his repertoire even further with a monographic album dedicated solely to César Franck. The list of piano works by this organ-playing composer was not very extensive, so Lugansky chose to perform the Prelude, Fugue and Variation Op. 18, and theChorale No. 2 , on the piano, both in the same key. Written specifically for the piano, the two triptychs Prélude, Choral et Fugue and Prélude, Aria et Final are inspired by both Bach and Liszt and had an obvious influence on later French music, particularly with Albéric Magnard (Symphony No. 3) and all the way up to Francis Poulenc (Concerto for organ ). Nikolai Lugansky constructs these pieces like a builder, with unfailing solidity. He brings out the architecture and the projections with power and fullness, while looking for what he calls "a French sound, a beauty of sonority and refined sound without lourdeur". © François Hudry/Qobuz

The German poet Goethe said, and is duly quoted in the booklet here, that a string quartet is "a spirited conversation among four reasonable people." That is not what Bach's Art of Fugue is, but string quartets seem impelled to keep performing the work, and audiences buy the move; the rarefied air of the string quartet seems to fit with Bach's contrapuntal mysteries somehow. This release by the Cuarteto Casals made classical best-seller charts in the late spring of 2023. It is one of the better string quartet attempts, both hewing to and departing from the work's Baroque character. First violinist Abel Tomás Realp mostly cultivates a glassy sound with little vibrato, as if his line were being played on an organ, but the other players allow themselves to be more expressive. The general approach is deliberate, and the members speak at length in the interview-style booklet about the necessity for deep contemplation in approaching the work. It is almost as if the group is seeking to clarify its contrapuntal intricacies. The music broadens out in the four canons, which are placed at the end right before the final fugue. That is given a little conclusion rather than being left hanging, as in Bach's unfinished manuscript, and it leads into the chorale Vor deinen Thron tret' ich, BWV 668, which Bach himself might have intended. The sound from Spain's Cardona monastery fits with the goals of the performance, which is to add a new layer of mystery to this perennially troublesome work.© 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 major attraction on this release by pianist Inon Barnatan is the opening work, an arrangement by the pianist of Rachmaninov's Symphonic Dances, Op. 45, for one piano. The composer arranged the work for two pianos and even played it on one himself; the impetus for the new arrangement was that Barnatan, at loose ends during the COVID-19 pandemic, heard a bootleg recording of the composer playing through the work to introduce it to conductor Eugene Ormandy. Barnatan investigated the recording deeply and made an arrangement of his own. It is remarkably detailed, showing the results of the months of work Barnatan put in on it, and it may well inspire other pianists to take it up. That is not the end of the pleasures here, either. The Moments Musicaux, Op. 16, are early works that elaborate upon earlier kinds of short piano pieces with considerable virtuosity, and Barnatan's playing is clear and shows no sign of stress. Two shorter pieces round out the collection. It is a bit odd that so many pianists like to take over the Vocalise, Op. 34, No. 14, a work that derives its appeal from the challenges it poses for a singer. However, the final Prelude in G sharp minor, Op. 32, No. 12, leaves the listener in a dreamy mood. Pianists and lovers of the same should absolutely hear Barnatan's new version of the Symphonic Dances here.© James Manheim /TiVo

One can debate the proper forces for the performance of Dieterich Buxtehude's vocal music and Bach's too, but in the case of Buxtehude, intimate, one-voice-per-part performance seems the way to go; Buxtehude wrote larger works for major church services (now mostly lost, unfortunately), and these small cantatas, in German and Latin, might have been performed at concerts in modest spaces or as liturgical interludes. They are quite inward and reflective in spirit, different from most of Bach's sacred works. Here, a small ensemble led by viola da gamba player Philippe Pierlot offers powerful performances that capture the expressivity of these eight works. One of them is in three movements; all have sectional forms of the sort Bach would abandon, but that set off the individual lines of text in a persuasive way. Sample the repeated text at the beginning of Fürwahr, er trug unsere Krankheit aus, where the opening word, "Fürwahr" ("For sure"), is repeated and set off by rhythmic pauses. It is not quite operatic, but it qualifies as madrigalian and as impactful. This entire work, an antiphonal piece with two separate little vocal-instrumental ensembles, is probably the high point, but many of the pieces have distinctive passages of text-setting. Pierlot is well served by his soloists, especially by countertenor alto David Sagastume, and by his period-instrument Ricercar Consort, less so by the sound at the Abbaye Sainte-Trinité de la Lucerne d'Outremer, which makes everything sound murky except for extraneous noise from the performers. At root, though, these are wonderful performances of a sorely underexposed repertory.© James Manheim /TiVo

The simple fact of the matter is that, compared with all previous releases of Ashkenazy's stupendous 1974-1975 recordings of Rachmaninov's 24 Preludes, this 96kHz 24-bit remastering is vastly better. Where the original LP release was warm and lush but a tad hazy, and earlier CD releases were warm and lush but a bit hard, this CD release is warm and lush -- but also clear and bright as polished crystal. Thus, while Ashkenazy's luminous lyricism, soulful sensuality, and blazing virtuosity are as manifest as ever -- and few pianists have ever matched him for these qualities in this repertoire -- what had previously seemed like his unfortunate tendency to overpedal in heavier textures is here shown to be a flaw in earlier releases, not his playing. More significantly, the remastering allows the colors and nuances of Ashkenazy's performances to sound more cleanly and accurately. In the hard-charging B flat major Prelude, the delicately radiant G sharp minor Prelude, even the played-to-death C sharp minor Prelude, Ashkenazy's playing seems much more subtle and dazzling -- which, considering his performances have long been considered among the deepest and strongest ever recorded, is quite an achievement. Everyone who treasures Rachmaninov's music should hear this release -- whether they've heard the earlier releases or not.© TiVo

The annotations for this Aparté release include a full-throated defense of the common fund of 19th and early 20th century piano music; "censors took a dim view of serving up little pieces bequeathed by the 19th century and the first years of the 20th, because of their 'sentimentality,' their 'virtuosity.' This era is over," writes Alain Lompech. Yet this debut by pianist Simon Bürki, still a student at the Juilliard School when this album was released in 2023, still stands out a bit for its adherence to pure Romantic and post-Romantic favorites. Bürki places works by Rachmaninov, mostly from the Études-Tableaux, at the center of his program, delivering confident performances with an attractive bit of restraint. From there, he does indeed move into more sentimental pieces, including Rachmaninov's arrangement of Fritz Kreisler's evergreen violin piece Liebesleid and Liszt's Liebesträume, a work that would have appeared on countless 19th century recitals but is perhaps a bit less common nowadays. He also includes the somewhat more modern Scriabin, performing him in a lyrical mood that emphasizes his Romantic rather than his experimentalist connections. It is an attractive collection, beautifully recorded at the Gustav Mahler Hall in Dobbiaco, Italy, and it makes one hopeful about future releases from the player.© James Manheim /TiVo

Only a chosen few can captivate listeners with a work that has been brought out over and over again hundreds of times. But that is what is achieved here with a Symphony "From the New World" byAntonin Dvořák which doesn't seem to have aged a bit. Recorded in 1959 in Berlin in excellent stereo, this feverish performance also shows the miracle that an invited leader can create. In a few short recording sessions, Ferenc Fricsay was able to bring forth from the Berlin Philharmonic a sound that was the polar opposite to Karajan's softness. Everything here, with the exception of an irresistibly dreamy Largo is sharp as a knife and whip-smart, in the the style of the Czech Philharmonic. It is the magic of an orchestra that can instantly adapt itself to the personality of a leader who knows how to convince. Recorded in 1960, but with Fricsay's Berlin RIAS (Radio in the American Sector) Orchestra, the symphonic poem by Franz Liszt, Les Préludes, is cut across by an epic gale, reinforced by a slow and majestic tempo. As for The Moldau (Vlatva) by Bedřich Smetana, so close to Czech hearts, Fricsay recorded it several times, most notably in 1960, with the Südfunk Orchester, the film of a rehearsal of which is one of the few visual records of the great Hungarian conductor. It was over the course of that same year that he made this recording, at the head of the Berlin Philharmonic. In 1948, Ferenc Fricsay had signed an exclusive contract with Deutsche Grammophon, becoming one of the few artists never to record for another label. On the occasion of the hundredth anniversary of the conductor's birth in 2014, the yellow label published an impressive box set (available on Qobuz) which brings together all of his recordings. It is a treasure trove for music lovers, because among the records which remain famous to this day, we find a whole series of forgotten works. The recordings were mainly de in the Titania-Palast in Steglitz in Berlin, which was the only concert hall which was spared the Allies’ bombs. © François Hudry/Qobuz

On this double album “Tristan” Igor Levit explores nocturnal themes of love and death, fear, ecstasy, loneliness & redemption in the music of Richard Wagner, Franz Liszt, Gustav Mahler and Hans Werner Henze. It includes Levit’s first concerto recording with the Gewandhausorchester Leipzig under Franz Welser-Möst with the album’s central work Henze’s Tristan for piano, electronic tapes and orchestra. The five works, including Liszt’s Liebestraum No. 3 and Harmonies du soir, as well as transcriptions of Wagner’s Prelude to Tristan und Isolde and Mahler’s Adagio from Symphony No. 10, span a period of 135 years (1837 to 1973) and represent very different genres. Only one of these works was originally conceived for piano solo, but Igor Levit’s exploration of borderline experiences in our lives – death in "Life" (2018), spirituality in "Encounter" (2020) and now, with "Tristan", the link between love, death and our need for redemption – inevitably means that it is not just masterpieces for the piano that are central to his concern but, above all, compositions in which certain thematic associations find their most personal expression. Levit’s own thoughts revolve less around the themes of love and death as such than around the experience of night and of the nocturnal as a dark alternative to our conscious actions by day. "Night has so many faces. It can signal a place of refuge or the loss of control, it signifies love and death, and it is the place where we feel our deepest, most paranoid fears”, says Levit. "The Adagio from Mahler’s Tenth Symphony contains a famous outburst of pain in the form of a dissonant chord, and Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde is all about a kind of emotional nuclear meltdown. All of the piece’s essential actions take place at night. In his reminiscences, Hans Werner Henze likewise recalled his work on Tristan as a time of nightmares and of dreamlike hallucinations”. Hans Werner Henze’s Tristan – described by the composer as a set of “Preludes for piano, tape and orchestra” – is a raptly refined hybrid work comprising passages for solo piano and electronics and is a concerto, a symphony and a piece of music theatre all wrapped into one. The present recording of this work was made during the concerts that were given in Leipzig in November 2019. Liszt’s nocturne in A-flat major – his Liebestraum No. 3 – derives from a setting of melancholic lines by Ferdinand Freiligrath: "Oh, love as long as you can love! / Oh, love as long as you could crave! / That hour is fast approaching when / You’ll stand and weep beside the grave!" The same sense of nocturnal despair is also found with Mahler, who in late July 1910 was working on the opening movement of his Tenth Symphony when he discovered that his wife was having an affair. Igor Levit performs this Adagio in a little-known piano transcription by the Scottish composer Ronald Stevenson, whose great Passacaglia on DSCH he has done so much recently to promote. Only in Harmonies du soir, the eleventh of Liszt’s twelve Études d’exécution transcendante, is there any sense of reconciliation, a peaceful counterweight to the ecstasies and nightmares experienced by those Wagnerian and Mahlerian figures who in Wagner’s own words are “devoted to the night”. © Sony Classical