Aside from Elgar’s fascinating and obligatory Falstaff composed in 1913 (a Symphonic Study according to the partition, but in reality a symphonic poem in the grand tradition of Strauss— about whom Elgar probably thought when he wrote his masterpiece, and the rather present solo cello cannot help but remind us of Strauss’ Don Quixote, composed sixteen years earlier), the album distinguishes itself by a few melodies with orchestra from the same Elgar, a repertoire unfortunately too often neglected and yet of breathtaking beauty (we hear, in a pinch, the Sea Pictures performed from time to time, but that’s all folks). And when you know that it’s the now very famous baritone Roderick Williams on the mic, we can only applaud the initiative of Andrew Davis and the BBC Philharmonic to feature these splendors once again. Elgar proves to us here that, far from just being a great master of large symphonic-vocal soundscapes in the form of oratorio (we obviously think about The Dream of Gerontius, The Apostles and The Music Makers), he handles the miniature with genius. Roderick Williams, one of the most beautiful voices of today’s British scene, grasps these rarities with a joy that is as rare as these pieces. The album closes on a hilarious wink, the Smoking Cantata, a cantata with a ginormous orchestration but that lasts… only 49 seconds, and whose text is limited to: “Kindly, Kindly, kindly do not SMOKE in the hall or staircase”. It’s the best British humor! Qobuz technical commentary on sound qualityThe sound quality for this wonderful orchestration is refined; the level ratios are well-judged; and the distances between the consoles are just right, in this airy piece of mixing that renders the lines exceptionally clear. Clear and enveloping reverberation never hides the discourse: the result is a rare evenness between the different families within the orchestra. The tutti certainly aren’t lacking any liveliness, thanks to the remarkably assured dynamic, and when the percussion gets going we discover a beautifully-proportioned hall, which gives the sound room to develop without constraints. Without falling into the very (too?) popular trap of ultra-proximity, and because the acoustics allow it, Chandos has produced a mix which really respects the score, the performance, and the sound scene... what a relief! © SM/Qobuz

In the early '20s, Franz Schreker was one of the best-known composers in the world. His music was suppressed by the Nazis because he was Jewish, and due to the High Modernism of the postwar period, a second totalitarianism, his reputation did not recover. This was a shame, for Schreker was anything but a conservative, and it is good to see that he is finally getting his due. What he needed at this point was a high-profile recording with top soloists, and that is exactly what he gets here from Christoph Eschenbach and the Konzerthausorchester Berlin, with soprano Chen Reiss and baritone Matthias Goerne. Deutsche Grammophon's PR text refers to "Schreker's sumptuous, hyper-Romantic music," but this is not quite right. Schreker could sometimes be that, as in the Romantische Suite that closes the album, but Straussian late Romanticism was only one of his influences. In terms of using tone color as a structural element, Schreker was in every way a contemporary of Schoenberg (his close friend) and Webern. Eschenbach's generous selection of orchestral songs here provides a good way to appreciate this quality; sample Die Dunkelheit sinkt schwer wie Blei from the Fünf Gesänge, with its mysterious strumming-like sounds. The text of that song is from a German translation of the Thousand and One Nights anthology, and Reiss sounds great in the Zwei lyrische Gesänge to texts (in German) by, of all people, Walt Whitman. Schreker could be neoclassic (in the economical Kleine Suite); he could be Impressionist-tinged; he mastered a full Expressionist idiom in the opera that gives the album its title, represented here by a substantial instrumental excerpt. This double-album release conveys the breadth of Schreker's musical language, but he is never blankly eclectic. A wonderful album that will help to rewrite the 20th century canon.© James Manheim /TiVo

This release showed up on classical best-seller lists in early 2024, and one wonders whether the buyers were influenced by the main graphics, referring only to Puccini "Orchestral Songs & Works"; listeners may have been intrigued by the idea of hitherto unknown orchestral songs by Puccini. He never wrote any such thing; heard here are transcriptions of songs for voice and piano by the student Puccini, plus a few early orchestral works and a string-orchestra version of the string quartet Crisantemi, which has been done before. The music here, transcriptions of music that is all-but-unknown to begin with, certainly could be described as niche, but it is interesting for Puccini fans and others, for it has the flavor of a labor of love. Transcriber Johannes X. Schachtner teases out the hints of the mature Puccini in these songs, many of which sound quite operatic even though Puccini had yet to write a single note of opera. Sample the full-scale "orchestral" introduction in Mentia all'avviso, written for the composer's final exams at the Milan Conservatory, or the little scrap of stage action represented by Casa mia, casa mia. Schachtner's work is retrospective, drawing on Puccini's operatic style. The Münchner Rundfunkorchester and conductor Ivan Repušić also offer convincing performances of the marginally better-known Preludio sinfonico and Capriccio sinfonico, which adumbrate the mature Puccini equally well. Hear the middle section of the latter work, and then listen to the beginning of La bohème. The song performances by tenor Charles Castronovo are at the right scale, neither full-on operatic nor chamber in scope. This is certainly recommended to Puccini lovers, and also for gifts to the same from those struggling to find music Puccini lovers may not know.© James Manheim /TiVo

In the early '20s, Franz Schreker was one of the best-known composers in the world. His music was suppressed by the Nazis because he was Jewish, and due to the High Modernism of the postwar period, a second totalitarianism, his reputation did not recover. This was a shame, for Schreker was anything but a conservative, and it is good to see that he is finally getting his due. What he needed at this point was a high-profile recording with top soloists, and that is exactly what he gets here from Christoph Eschenbach and the Konzerthausorchester Berlin, with soprano Chen Reiss and baritone Matthias Goerne. Deutsche Grammophon's PR text refers to "Schreker's sumptuous, hyper-Romantic music," but this is not quite right. Schreker could sometimes be that, as in the Romantische Suite that closes the album, but Straussian late Romanticism was only one of his influences. In terms of using tone color as a structural element, Schreker was in every way a contemporary of Schoenberg (his close friend) and Webern. Eschenbach's generous selection of orchestral songs here provides a good way to appreciate this quality; sample Die Dunkelheit sinkt schwer wie Blei from the Fünf Gesänge, with its mysterious strumming-like sounds. The text of that song is from a German translation of the Thousand and One Nights anthology, and Reiss sounds great in the Zwei lyrische Gesänge to texts (in German) by, of all people, Walt Whitman. Schreker could be neoclassic (in the economical Kleine Suite); he could be Impressionist-tinged; he mastered a full Expressionist idiom in the opera that gives the album its title, represented here by a substantial instrumental excerpt. This double-album release conveys the breadth of Schreker's musical language, but he is never blankly eclectic. A wonderful album that will help to rewrite the 20th century canon.© James Manheim /TiVo

Three composers are particularly well suited to conductor Daniel Barenboim: Bruckner, Wagner and Sir Edward Elgar; no doubt a question of orchestral colour and texture. Since his collaboration with the Universal labels has resumed (Decca for orchestral projects, Deutsche Grammophon for piano), he has once again been exploring the English composer's orchestral works with his beloved Staatskapelle Berlin, an ensemble characterised by dark timbres. After beautiful versions of the two symphonies and The Dream of Gerontius, what a joy it is to now be able to immerse ourselves in Sea Pictures, one of the most poetic song cycles of the late 19th century. The broad spectrum of the Latvian mezzo-soprano Elīna Garanča's voice and her silky timbre fit perfectly with the lyrical yet tragic lines of Where Corals Lie (the most beautiful “song” of the cycle), as well as with the more theatrical The Swimmer, which takes on a truly extravagant tone. Unlike many other recordings since the legendary 1965 recording by Dame Janet Baker and Sir John Barbirolli with the London Symphony Orchestra (His Master's Voice), Elīna Garanča and Daniel Barenboim willingly drop the melancholy and contemplative tone of Sea Pictures. More in keeping with the romantic performances of the early 19th century (Berlioz), following a pattern of "Introduction" (Sea Slumber Song), "Aria I" (In Haven), an alternating form mixing recitatives and ariosos (Sabbath Morning at Sea), "Aria II" (Where Corals Lie) and "Conclusion" (The Swimmer), they have created a much more dramatic atmosphere despite very measured tempo contrasts. Barenboim's clearly drawn phrasings in the introduction of the last "song" can testify to this new approach, which in this respect is very different from the earlier recording with Yvonne Minton (CBS). Daniel Barenboim and the Staatskapelle Berlin continue the programme with the symphonic study Falstaff, composed in 1912, on which the conductor underlines its links with the work of Richard Strauss (Don Quixote, Ein Heldenleben). As always, Daniel Barenboim's conducting is full of verve (Falstaff's March). A truly wonderful rendition. © Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz

Three composers are particularly well suited to conductor Daniel Barenboim: Bruckner, Wagner and Sir Edward Elgar; no doubt a question of orchestral colour and texture. Since his collaboration with the Universal labels has resumed (Decca for orchestral projects, Deutsche Grammophon for piano), he has once again been exploring the English composer's orchestral works with his beloved Staatskapelle Berlin, an ensemble characterised by dark timbres. After beautiful versions of the two symphonies and The Dream of Gerontius, what a joy it is to now be able to immerse ourselves in Sea Pictures, one of the most poetic song cycles of the late 19th century. The broad spectrum of the Latvian mezzo-soprano Elīna Garanča's voice and her silky timbre fit perfectly with the lyrical yet tragic lines of Where Corals Lie (the most beautiful “song” of the cycle), as well as with the more theatrical The Swimmer, which takes on a truly extravagant tone. Unlike many other recordings since the legendary 1965 recording by Dame Janet Baker and Sir John Barbirolli with the London Symphony Orchestra (His Master's Voice), Elīna Garanča and Daniel Barenboim willingly drop the melancholy and contemplative tone of Sea Pictures. More in keeping with the romantic performances of the early 19th century (Berlioz), following a pattern of "Introduction" (Sea Slumber Song), "Aria I" (In Haven), an alternating form mixing recitatives and ariosos (Sabbath Morning at Sea), "Aria II" (Where Corals Lie) and "Conclusion" (The Swimmer), they have created a much more dramatic atmosphere despite very measured tempo contrasts. Barenboim's clearly drawn phrasings in the introduction of the last "song" can testify to this new approach, which in this respect is very different from the earlier recording with Yvonne Minton (CBS). Daniel Barenboim and the Staatskapelle Berlin continue the programme with the symphonic study Falstaff, composed in 1912, on which the conductor underlines its links with the work of Richard Strauss (Don Quixote, Ein Heldenleben). As always, Daniel Barenboim's conducting is full of verve (Falstaff's March). A truly wonderful rendition. © Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz

Somm Recordings is delighted to present a revelatory collection of orchestral songs by Sir Edward Elgar (on double slimline selling as a single disc), performed by two of today’s most exciting young singers – mezzo-soprano Kathryn Rudge and baritone Henk Neven – accompanied by the BBC Concert Orchestra conducted by Barry Wordsworth. Historically the least regarded part of Elgar’s output, his songs contain a treasure-trove of vocal gems and here receive performances of insight, imagination and emotional directness. The Op. 59 Song Cycle is an exemplary case in point, by turns quietly radiant, touchingly nostalgic and achingly melancholic. Two settings of poems by Elgar’s wife – the richly orchestrated The Wind at Dawn and celebratory The King’s Way (which borrows a tune from his Fourth Pomp and Circumstance March) – show Elgar at his most evocative and ebullient. Sombre and powerful, The Pipes of Pan boasts colourful imagery and driving rhythmic energy, The River and The Torch wholly Elgarian in their wonderful sonorities. A first recording of the orchestral version of the marching song Follow the Colours shows Elgar at his most patriotic. The complete incidental music for a 1901 staging of WB Yeats’ Grania and Diarmid offers a rare opportunity to experience the full gamut of Elgar’s moving and dramatic evocation of a timeless tale of love in the ancient Irish myth. A bonus disc of recordings made under the auspices of the Elgar Society showcases soprano Nathalie de Montmollin and pianist Barry Collett in a collection of piano-accompanied songs. It includes first recordings of the piano version of ‘Winter’ from The Mill Wheel (with its churning left-hand patterns and a text by the composer’s wife) and the world-weary tread of Muleteer’s Serenade, setting words from Cervantes’ Don Quixote.© Somm Recordings

If Le Secret is the title of a melody that Gabriel Fauré composed on a rather vapid poem by Armand Silvestre, it doesn’t seem like it inspired the title of the present album called “The Secret Fauré”, and it is rather underlining the rare and intimate character of the works. Ivor Bolton, conducting the Sinfonieorchester Basel, of which he is the artistic director, offers a very subtle selection composed of extracts of stage music or music for the stage: Caligula, Pénélope, Shylock, Pelléas et Mélisande, mixed with a few melodies orchestrated by Fauré or more probably by his friends, such as Charles Koechlin. The Russian soprano Olga Peretyatko, the new international queen of bel canto, lends her voice to the very discreet art of Fauré. Forgotten are her numerous Traviata in Berlin, at the Met or in Vienna, in favor of a song of a reserved limpidity. Alongside her, tenor Benjamin Bruns and the Balthasar Neumann female choir complete this disc devoted to a certain French spirit seen from outside, made of a blend of insouciance, discreet elegance and some futility. © François Hudry/Qobuz

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