It’s almost as if Yuja Wang were playing at home in her second collaboration with the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the conductor Gustavo Dudamel. The music of Rachmaninov has no secrets left for the Chinese piano virtuoso, who strolls happily along these formidably difficult concertos. It’s the “Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18”, the most iconic, that leads. Composed in 1901, at the time when Rachmaninov was just beginning to recover from the depression caused by the failure of his first symphony, this concerto became one of the centrepieces of the Russian composer’s work, when it was notoriously sampled in the legendary pop hit “All by myself”. Yuja Wang moves with alarming ease along a score rife with traps, starting with the tenth intervals that are every pianist’s worst nightmare. Wang offers a sublime variety in her playing, marvellously befitting of the very distinct moods of the three movements: raging and bold attacks in the “moderato”, languid legatos in the “adagio sostenuto”, and finishing with a triumphant and luminous “allegro scherzando”. “Concertos No. 1” and “No.4” are served with the same mastery, and the album closes with a “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini” where the orchestra proves to be of tremendous precision. An impeccable record. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

Backed by the Sun King despite a lukewarm audience reception at first, Lully's Atys (1676) went on to become one of the composer's most successful operas, with revivals at French court theaters as late as 1753. In modern times, however, it is a considerably rarer item due to the massive forces and time required. Christophe Rousset was in the pit as harpsichordist when conductor William Christie gave the first modern revival of the work in the late '80s. That experience marks this 2024 release, which made classical best-seller lists at the beginning of that year. That is not common for a hefty five-act Baroque opera, but even a bit of sampling will confirm why it happened: Rousset, from the keyboard, brings tremendous energy to the opera. He pushes the tempo in the numerous dances and entrance numbers, and the musicians of Les Talens Lyriques and the singers of the Choeur du Chambre de Namur, all of whom have worked closely with Rousset in the past, keep right up. The singers in the solo roles are all fine; haut-contre Reinoud Van Mechelen in the title role and Ambroisine Bré as the goddess Cybèle, who sets the tragic plot in motion, are standouts. The sound from the increasingly engineering-expert Château de Versailles label is exceptionally clear in complex textures, and the sensuous cover art (representing, it is true, not the Roman mythological figure of Atys but Hippomène and Atalante) is a bonus. In the end, this is Rousset's Atys, and that is a very good thing.© James Manheim /TiVo

It would be fascinating to know what Mendelssohn would have to say about the release into the public domain of the twelve String Symphonies he began to compose from 1821, when just on the cusp of his teens. Although one could hazard a pretty accurate guess that he'd be unamused. Collated in a carefully dated exercise book, these were thoroughly private exercises in the symphonic craft, never intended for publication, and road-tested equally behind closed doors on the chamber orchestra that met at his parents' Berlin salon. And that's precisely what they sound like, too – full of the light-footed, Classical-inspired elegance we associate with Mendelssohn, but with the first six in particular sounding less like Mendelssohn, and more like what Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach might have come up with on one of his less wild-child days. Ditto for the Violin Concerto in D minor he composed around the same period for his violin teacher, Eduard Rietz. All of which is to say that they constitute a risk for any ensemble wishing to take them on, because while on the one hand they're charming and sometimes fascinating works (especially towards the end of the set), they're also abundantly ripe with the potential to sound as dull as ditchwater. Happily though, they've come out very well indeed under the fingers of the Münchner Rundfunkorchester and its leader Henry Raudales. Studio recorded in an ample (but not overly so) acoustic, this offering is a repackaging of the orchestra's 2019 release featuring the first six symphonies paired with the Violin Concerto, to which have now been added the final six symphonies plus the Sinfoniesatz in C minor Mendelssohn then replaced a few months later with the full-orchestra Symphony No. 1. That 2019 release had given us fresh, crisp, daintily elegant and light readings of the symphonies, but its star attraction had undoubtedly been the concerto, Raudales singing its solo lines with crisp, neat, lithe elegance, supported by equally neat, bright, light and fun-filled orchestral playing. Those same qualities have been similarly lavished on the second half of the set, while capitalising on the flashes of additional interest Mendelssohn's gradually developing voice is now beginning to throw up as he graduates from three to four movements, and introduces his first Scherzo. Take how gracefully they nail the mysterious, time-standing-still, misty romance of No. 11's opening Adagio as Mendelssohn begins to flex the programmatic voice that would later give us works such as ”The Hebrides” Overture; or the deliciously stringy luminosity with which they romp through its Commodo Schweizerlied Scherzo, Raudales delivering its solo with top-tapping perkiness; or the way in which, in the ensuing Adagio's opening, they bring out its brief, uncanny resemblance to the later Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage overture. Also to be appreciated is the overall warmth to their tone. If you're interested in tracing the development of Mendelssohn's symphonic voice, you won't go wrong with these. © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz

Since the 2015-2016 season, Giovanni Antonini has been the "principal guest conductor" of the Basel Chamber Orchestra (Kammerorchester Basel, recreated in 1984 in the spirit of the first Basler Kammerorchester which was founded by the patron and Swiss conductor Paul Sacher). He is working with them on important discographic projects, such as the complete Beethoven symphonies (Sony Classical) which are proving to be a great success with the press; and the "Haydn 2032" project, which is set to comprise the complete hundred and seven symphonies by Joseph Haydn, to mark the latter’s 300th birthday. The first fruit of this vast complete collection, that is, this album, was created by Antonini's historic Italian ensemble and described as a work of "passion" (but how could it be otherwise with a personality as joyful and innovative as Haydn?). The record gets off to a flying start with the Symphony n° 39 in G minor, subtitled "Tempesta di mare" on a 1779 manuscript and which, curiously, no publisher has yet taken up. Although it does not break out of its formal framework, it is a work stirred by tempestuous winds which are scarcely calmed by an Andante that seems to arise out of nowhere. The Finale is all filled with Vivaldian cascades, painting a portrait of natural cataclysm, or of the agitation of a soul struggling with the first jolts of Romanticism. A childhood memory of Giovanni Antonini who had discovered Haydn through his Symphony No. 1, this final piece at the end of this first album was broadly influenced by the style of the Mannheim school which was then flourishing in Europe. The harmonic proximity of the Symphony n° 49 in F Minor "The Passion" to the ballet-pantomime Don Juan or the Feast of Stone which Gluck had composed a few years earlier led Giovanni Antonini to include Gluck in this first volume, a dream opportunity for the conductor to show how Haydn changed the fate of the symphony by introducing a dramatic touch tinged with irony. Antonini sees in the two composers the same turn of mind and a shared use of techniques, who nevertheless bring together very different aspects of life in their music. © François Hudry/Qobuz

It took András Schiff over 40 years to acquire his first clavichord, but the long wait was worth it. His love for the harpsichord's ‘little sister’ began in the late 1960s, when Schiff met the English pianist, organist, composer and conductor Georg Malcolm: ‘He showed me how to play Bach's polyphony with my fingers alone, without using the sustain pedal’.Unlike the harpsichord or piano, a note (string) played on the clavichord resonates for as long as the key is held down. As a result, playing this instrument is unique in that you can influence the sound even after a key has been struck, allowing for techniques such as vibrato.Historically, the clavichord was widely used as a practice instrument and a composition aid, and it was often only played in front of small groups. This doesn’t detract from its importance and significance, however, as evidenced by its frequent use by composers such as Bach.András Schiff takes to this intimate, personal instrument to offer recordings which— together with those of Friedrich Gulda or Gustav Leonhardt—constitute one of the rare complete recordings of Bach's keyboard music for clavichord. He performs the Inventions, Sinfonias, Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue BWV 903, among others, with dedication and precision, and he’s not afraid to put his own mark on the music. Schiff tends to be less known for his historical performances, but he astonishes here with an impressive recording in which he remains true to himself and to Bach. © Lena Germann/Qobuz

Francis Poulenc's La Voix Humaine ("The Human Voice") is a one-woman opera, less than an hour long, about a woman on the phone with her boyfriend as they break up. Set to a text by Jean Cocteau, it puts the woman through strong mood swings. (Country music fans may wish to compare it to As Soon as I Hang Up the Phone, although there, the boyfriend is present to deliver the final blow.) Soprano Véronique Gens is best known for music from the 17th century up to Mozart, but it is easy to believe the claim in the publicity materials for this release that she had always wanted to record this work; its direct, conversational quality, interspersed with occasional freakouts, fits her manner beautifully. It might seem that those freakouts require a bit more intensity than Gens gives them here, but that is not really in the Cocteau spirit and certainly not in the Poulenc spirit. Gens receives sensitive support from the Orchestre National de Lille under Alexandre Bloch, who also ring down the curtain with a lithe performance of the joyous Sinfonietta. There are other strong performances of Poulenc's little opera, which ought to be much more frequently heard and would be ideal for university voice programs, but this one is instantly appealing and quite memorable, and it is no surprise that it made classical best-seller charts in early 2023. © James Manheim /TiVo

"A composer’s oeuvre can only be fully understood in the context of his lifetime achievement. Concerts and events provide mere snapshots. I have always been more interested in the process than the highlights of an artist’s creative life. When I engage with a composer, I need to know everything about him. Mendelssohn was a cosmos that opened before me. There were worlds waiting to be discovered. My recording of the complete works is based on the system of compilation applied by Dr. Ralf Wehner of the Saxon Academy of Sciences and Humanities in Leipzig: the Mendelssohn-Werkverzeichnis (MWV, catalogue of Mendelssohn’s works). The category MWV U lists the piano works in chronological order of their composition, opening up completely new perspectives on the way Mendelssohn worked. It is clear, for example, that Mendelssohn first wrote his fugues, then composed the preludes to them quite a bit later, in order to publish them as pairs of Preludes and Fugues. That is also the only deviation from my chronological order: I have placed each Prelude before its Fugue, which is the way Mendelssohn intended it. Prelude and Fugue form a conceptual unity and a musically coherent form and must not be separated. The Lieder ohne Worte, on the other hand, are collections. Mendelssohn wrote them for publication in sets of six at a time. I have accordingly incorporated the Lieder ohne Worte into the chronological sequence”. (Ana-Marija Markovina)

L'amour de loin (2000) is Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho's first opera, but the mastery of its memorably dramatic music demonstrates incontrovertibly that she is a born opera composer. The opera has had numerous international productions and in 2003 it received the Grawemeyer Award, the most prestigious international award for composition. Saariaho was inspired to write an opera after seeing the 1992 Salzburg Festival production of Messiaen's Saint François d'Assise, so it is not surprising that her first effort would be more concerned with introspection than with conventionally operatic drama. The French libretto, by Armin Maalouf, deals with twelfth century troubadour Jaufre Rudel, and the legend of his love for the Countess of Tripoli. Separated by thousands of miles, the two had an erotically charged but unconsummated relationship, which in the opera is sustained by messages carried between them by a Pilgrim. The poet finally makes the voyage to meet his love, only to die in her arms. For a work on such an intimate subject with such an understated dramatic profile, L'amour de loin feels like a very big opera. Saariaho is dealing with large emotions, and what it lacks in outward theatricality is more than made up for in the vividness and depth with which it probes the psychology of its characters. The orchestra and chorus are vehicles for making audible the lovers' states of mind, which are frequently roiling with conflict and anxiety, and the music is consequently turbulent, powerful, and often very loud. (It's closer in tone to Tristan and Isolde than to Pelléas et Mélisande, two tragedies of thwarted love that it resembles in some ways.) Saariaho's counterintuitive take on Maalouf's intensely inward libretto works brilliantly. The ravishing orchestral palette, deft blend of Medieval and contemporary musical traditions, and gorgeous choral and vocal writing make this is a work that seems destined to endure. Saariaho's text setting is exceptionally graceful and limber, and it's performed beautifully by the superlative singers on this recording. Mezzo-soprano Marie-Anne Todorovitch's shapely vocal interpretation invests the Pilgrim with so much nuanced individuality that the listener cannot help being drawn to the character. Her supple, infinitely colorful voice is responsive to the most subtle dramatic cues in the text and music; this is the kind of fully realized performance that opera composers dream of. The same can be said for soprano Ekaterina Lekhina and baritone Daniel Belcher as the lovers; the startling purity and focus of their voices, and the intensity and subtlety with which they inhabit their roles, make them absolutely compelling, both musically and dramatically. Kent Nagano leads Rundfunkchor Berlin and Deutsches Symphonie-Orchestra Berlin in a luminous reading of the richly variegated score. Harmonia Mundi's sound is pure, full, and warmly atmospheric. This outstanding performance of L'amour de loin should be of strong interest not only to fans of contemporary opera, but of new music in general, and to lovers of bel canto singing. Highly recommended. © TiVo

Pianist Nathanaël Gouin explores the caprice as it has evolved, with works that fall squarely into that form and some that, as Gouin discusses in the booklet interview, fit the mold. Gouin's phrasing and style seem best suited to the Romantic and Post-Romantic periods, and that is where he excels here, especially in the Valse-Caprice No. 2, Op. 38, of Fauré and Alkan's Le festin d'Ésope, Op. 39/12. Another draw is the premiere of Reynaldo Hahn's Mignouminek from 1943, an unpublished work that was dedicated to and later found in the library of François Lang, a pianist and collector who died in Auschwitz in 1944. There are countless recordings of Rachmaninov's Rhapsodie sur theme de Paganini, Op. 43, and this one is worth considering. The freedom associated with the caprice form is necessarily reined in owing to the presence of the orchestra here. The Sinfonia Varsovia under conductor Aleksandar Markovic is a good stylistic match with Gouin. The juxtaposition of the Rachmaninov variations with those of Brahms' first book of his Variations sur un theme de Paganini, Op. 35, for solo piano, allows listeners to hear the extra freedom given to the pianist in the Brahms. The inclusion of Bach's Caprice sur le depart de son frère bien-aimé, BWV 992, makes sense given the title and the overarching theme of the album. Gouin is less convincing in this Baroque master's work as his playing is sometimes uneven and loses a bit of momentum in the slower movements, but the quicker, lighter movements are better matched to his playing style.© Keith Finke /TiVo