In four albums, Worrisome Heart (2008), My One And Only Thrill (2009), The Absence (2012) and Currency Of Man (2015), Melody Gardot has managed to sneak in between Diana Krall and Norah Jones to also find her place in the selective club of the female singers that are “a bit jazzy but not too much”, this oneiric cast that was so popular during the 50s, and in which she soon made the singularity of her very sensual voice resonate. A voice that she ceaselessly took touring to locations all over the world, and multiple times over at that. And so, there are enough recordings in the cellar to release a live album. However, live discs are rarely a must. There is often something missing, this small impalpable thing, that only those present that night will have kept inside of them… This Live In Europe from Melody Gardot is lucky to have kept, precisely, this “small thing”… The American has probably meticulously built it (apparently, she has listened to more than 300 recordings before making her decision!) by avoiding the true-false best of. “Someday, someone told me, ‘never look back, because there’s no way you’re going back’, she says. It’s nicely said, but if you don’t look back sometimes, it’s hard to see that time is on the verge of catching up to you. We all need to quickly look back into the rear-view mirror from time to time in order to adjust our trajectory. This disc is precisely that, the rear-view mirror of a 1963 Corvette, a postcard of our touring all over Europe. We spent most of our time on the road these last few years, and we’ve taken advantage of this trip to not only get around and get some fresh air but also to try, as much as possible, to get rid of the rules and create something exciting. I’ve been dreaming for years of releasing a live album like this one.” This desire can be felt in every moment of this disc comprised of titles recorded in Paris, Vienna, Bergen, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Barcelona, Lisbon, Zurich and London. Whether she performs her hits Baby I'm A Fool and My One And Only Thrill or covers the classic Over The Rainbow, Melody Gardot offers up a different point of view, but it’s always an open performance. To help her in her introspective trip that is constantly shifting, she is surrounded by her impeccable musicians, discreet but decisive. Drummer Charles Staab, saxophonist Irwin Hall and bass player Sami Minaie are completely in tune with her singing, like some kind of thin hand that you take and only let go of after the last note. Finally, there is this album cover which will lead to extensive press coverage… or not. © MD/Qobuz

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Pianist Saskia Giorgini found both critical and commercial success with her 2022 recording of Liszt's Harmonies poétiques et religieuses, and this 2023 release, which immediately climbed onto classical best-seller charts, follows directly on the earlier album, with the same Bösendorfer piano and the same recording location, the Lisztzentrum in Raiding, Austria. Listeners will not be disappointed, for Consolations has all the virtues of her first Liszt album and adds a few more. The wonderfully controlled lyricism of the Harmonies poétiques et religieuses recurs in the heavily programmatic title work, where Giorgini's playing hints at the presence of all kinds of stories. She plainly excels in the religious, late Liszt, and there are two wonderful examples here, the Deux Legends, portraits of St. Francis of Assisi praying to the birds, and of St. François de Paule. These are difficult works that combine mysticism with Lisztian virtuosity; annotator Mark Berry is right to stress that Liszt did not fully renounce the virtuosity in his later years, but that is not all. Giorgini is just as good in the flashy Three Caprices-Valses and the reflective Liebesträume, the best-known music on the album. In the Valse-Impromptu, she has an uncanny way of suggesting the feeling of spontaneity that seems to have marked Liszt's own playing. Will Giorgini go on with Liszt? She certainly has the technical and emotional wherewithal to do so and to take on more famous works than these.© James Manheim /TiVo

At first glance, one might confuse the virtuoso cellist Angelina Kobekina’s latest album, Venice, as a classical “greatest hits” collection—a packaging of snippets taken from previous recordings released when a record company’s star artist hasn’t recorded enough fresh material. This recording is anything but that. Venice is a strikingly original and personal concept with Kobekina’s love for the titular city as the underlying theme. Kobekina’s original compositions are solo cello pieces, while those of Bach, Britten, Monteverdi, and Vivaldi feature her unique accompaniments. Some depart significantly from the originals, such as a 20th-Century jazz arrangement of a Vivaldi concerto. While some traditionally-minded classical listeners may object to the recomposing of works by the old masters, what must be kept in mind is that Venice is not the typical classical release in recital format, but a creation in which the artist takes the listener along on her own highly intimate journey. Some listeners may find themselves getting lost but the wordy “roadmap” provided in the booklet or even the notes by Kobekina herself may likely be of little assistance.  Rather than trying to figure out exactly what the artist is expressing, the best approach is to listen to Venice from beginning to end, with no interruptions or preconceived notions. Listeners may love it or hate it, but one thing on which all may agree: Anastasia Kobekina is an extraordinary cellist, artist, and musician. ©Anthony Fountain/Qobuz

This program brings together two great French composers, separated by almost two centuries, that we would not think of bringing together spontaneously. But the freedom of mind of the Icelandic pianist looks at it otherwise, who, for his third album with Deutsche Grammophon, wanted to highlight their affinities as their contrasts in the light of their innovative contribution to the musical thought of their time. "I scratch my head wondering why Rameau's music is not played more. Between quality, inventiveness and unpredictability, there is never any element of formula in these pieces”, says Víkingur Ólafsson. By instinctively associating these style characteristics with those specific to Debussy, he decided to make an album of them: "I want to show Rameau as a futurist and underline the deep roots of Debussy in French baroque — and in Rameau's music in particular. The idea is that the listener almost forgets who is who by listening to the album." Debussy, who never stopped defending the French tradition by opposing it to German music, liked the decorative and complex lines of this Baroque composer with a French spirit like his own.An initial idea in the development of this skillfully constructed program, the transcription for piano of Debussy from Prélude to his Cantata La Damoiselle introduces it. Like the album's visual, Víkingur Ólafsson aims to be suggestive even in the accent he gives in Rameau to polyphonic voices supported by a flawless rhythmic impulse, which contrasts with Debussy, whose among other things the beautiful tumultuous Jardins sous la pluie which is played with a large breath in the image of wind load until the light returns. © Qobuz / GG

Beyond the neglect of French Baroque music in general, it is a bit hard to understand why composer Pancrace Royer was almost completely unknown until Christophe Rousset came along to champion him, first in harpsichord music and now, with these suites of music drawn from operas, in orchestral music. In the 18th century, Royer was quite well known and admired among others by Rameau, whose music he helped along considerably. Royer certainly inhabited Rameau's stylistic world, but from the evidence here, his music is distinctive and merits the adjective "surprising" that Rousset has attached to it. It is colorful, given to unexpected turns of harmony, and vivid in its evocation of the exotic scenes of French opera. Sample the "Air pour les turcs" ("Air for the Turks") from Zaïde, reine de Grenade, with its crackling percussion. Royer challenged his orchestra with virtuoso ensemble writing in the likes of the "Premier et second tambourins" from Almasis, and Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques step up with precise, vigorous readings that one imagines would have made the composer overjoyed. The inclusion of two alternate versions for movements from Zaïde is also unusual and gives insight into the compositional thinking of the day. Essential for specialists and enthusiasts interested in the French Baroque, this album is a lot of fun for anyone, with only overdone church sound detracting from the overall effect. © James Manheim /TiVo

Gaspare's Spontini's French-language La Vestale is probably the most often heard of his operas, but that is not saying much; the work was sung by Maria Callas in the 1950s, but performances are sparse. Here, it is revived in period style by Les Talens Lyriques and conductor Christophe Rousset, and a very good case is made for further attention. The story is action-packed; Julia, in the absence of her lover, General Licinius, becomes una Vestale, a Vestal Virgin and guards a sacred flame. When Licinius returns to town, the flame goes out, and Julia is sentenced to be buried alive. Licinius rallies his troops, vowing to kidnap Julia, and the flame is reignited later by a lightning strike. Spontini's orchestration of this tale is Beethovenian in its dimensions, and despite the difficulties of natural horns, it is exciting to hear this opera as Napoleon (thought to be the model for Licinius) and Josephine (who backed the opera) heard it. The singers are not Callas-level, but throughout, and especially in the choruses, there is a commitment to the text and its meaning that is rare in any kind of recording. Marina Rebeka, in the role of Julia, is fully involved in the character's plight, and the smoky-voiced Aude Extrémo as La Grande Vestale is worth the price of admission on her own. The singers are aided by clear, spacious studio sound engineering from the early opera specialist label Palazzetto Bru Zane, whose high standards are perhaps even exceeded here. © James Manheim /TiVo

In a world of "singles," pursued even by classical music labels nowadays, here is a whole album that makes up a single, sublime musical utterance. Reflet is a follow-up, similarly concerned with light effects, to soprano Sandrine Piau's German-language Clair-Obscur of a few years back. The German songs might have been a bigger stretch for Piau than the French material here, but Reflet has possibly an even more sublime coherence. One feels that every note is almost foreordained as the program opens with classic orchestral songs from Berlioz, Henri Duparc, and the less common Charles Koechlin, proceeding into darker, more mysterious realms with Ravel's Trois poèmes de Stéphane Mallarmé, and ending with the youthful ebullience of Britten's Quatre chansons françaises. An illustration of how carefully calibrated everything is here comes with two Debussy pieces, Clair de lune and "Pour remercier la pluie" (from the Six Épigraphes Antiques), arranged for orchestra from other media. These serve as entr'actes between the sections of Piau's program, and they should by all rights have been annoying: aren't there enough genuine orchestral pieces that could have filled the bill? But just listen. These fit into the patterns that run through the whole album, and they make perfect sense, just like everything else. Piau's voice is delicate, soaring, and richly beautiful; one of the miracles of the current scene is its durability and versatility. Her support from conductor Jean-François Verdier, leading the Victor Hugo Orchestra, is confidently smooth, never intruding on the spell Piau weaves. A magnificent orchestral song recital that made classical best-seller lists in early 2024.© James Manheim /TiVo

The twelfth volume in the Haydn2032 series, in which Giovanni Antonini conducts the Kammerorchester Basel, is devoted to "games and pleasures". The symphonies recorded here, Nos. 61, 66 and 69, were composed for the daily theatrical performances held at Eszterháza Palace in the spring of 1776. For Haydn they marked the end of a festive period, before he had to return to the serious business of writing operas. The "Toy Symphony", attributed to Haydn for 200 years before it was discovered that it was in all probability composed by a Benedictine monk, completes the programme in a similarly light and cheerful atmosphere. © Alpha Classics

Without any hesitation, we had to award a Qobuzissime to L'Heure bleue, the second album by Quatuor Zahir.  Because in the classical world, the saxophone quartet is still too rare a format on both record and on stage.  Because the impressionist works of Debussy, Ravel, Poulenc, and Boulanger dazzle us, as do the creations of Fabien Waksman and Graciane Finzi. Because of the refinement and sophistication of these arrangements. Because of the impeccable sound recording—always a highlight of the Aparté label.  Because of the beauty of the title, "L'Heure Bleue," which sums up the driving idea behind this powerful record. “This ephemeral moment at the crossroads of day and night—such could be the dream setting for this new opus. An invitation to a dreamlike journey," explain the members of the quartet—Guillaume Berceau, Etienne Boussard, Florent Louman, and Joakim Cielsa. Five years after their debut, the quartet took the time to construct this recital piece by piece, with the patience of goldsmiths or those who have a taste for beauty and precision of gesture. Like a landscape with changing colors and moods—from the lively (Debussy's "Quant j'ai ouy le tabourin") and languorous (Ravel's "Pavane pour une infante défunte"), to the playfulness of the last of Boulanger's Trois Pièces—in L'Heure bleue we find the gentle reminiscence of a forgotten or fantasized era. Whether the works interpreted here are in their original form or arranged, it becomes almost impossible to distinguish between the two categories, as each track is so immediately appealing. The Zahirs interweave their sublime timbres with consummate artistry, with all the interpretations becoming essentials. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

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Praised for his meticulous fidelity to the composer's intentions, as well as for his rich tonal palette and the warmth of his expressions, Jean-Efflam Bavouzet has won many admirers for his five albums of the complete solo piano music of Claude Debussy. These recordings were produced by Chandos between 2007 and 2009, and they have now been gathered into a handsome box set; each disc is presented with its own cardboard sleeve and the original liner notes that accompanied each release. The roster of artists who have recorded Debussy's keyboard music is a long and distinguished one, though Bavouzet is easily ranked in the upper echelons, equal in stature among such luminaries as Jean-Yves Thibaudet, Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli, Krystian Zimerman, Maurizio Pollini, Angela Hewitt, Pierre-Laurent Aimard, and Pascal Rogé. Experienced listeners will already have favorite recordings of the Préludes, Images, Estampes, and Études, as well as the perennially popular Suite bergamasque, Children's Corner, and other picturesque pieces. However, many will be won over by the consistency of Bavouzet's playing, and newcomers will find that his disciplined yet gorgeous readings are a great way to begin appreciating these charming classics. Chandos provides excellent sound that gives the piano a clear presence yet takes nothing away from Bavouzet's atmospheric colors or the radiant acoustics. Highly recommended.© TiVo

It is hard to figure out what pianist Emmanuel Despax had in mind for the concept of this album. Its various titles offer three ideas: Après un rêve comes from the title of a Fauré song Despax transcribes for his program opener, plus there is "Belle Époque: Nights at the Piano." None of these is of much use; few pieces other than the Fauré are particularly dreamy, and the largest piece, Poulenc's Soirées de Nazelles, is from the nervous 1930s and nowhere near the Belle Époque in time or mood. As for "Nights at the Piano," that fits the Poulenc nicely but not the concluding Gaspard de la Nuit of Ravel, which is an imposing virtuoso concert work carrying none of the connotations of "Nights at the Piano." Really, Despax excels in none of these three ways but rather in a fourth: he hits on an intriguing mix of familiar standards and unusual works. Among the latter group are the Soirées de Nazelles, which Poulenc disclaimed and, perhaps for that reason, have been seldom heard. They are delightful pieces that bear titles describing qualities, like the numbers of a Baroque French suite, but actually seem to have been devised by Poulenc to describe members of a group of his friends, like Elgar's Enigma Variations. The result is a work that distills the hint of improvisation that pervades some of Poulenc's keyboard music and songs, and Despax gives it the right lively, spontaneous feel. The Nocturne, Op. 165, of Cécile Chaminade and the keyboard version of Henri Duparc's Aux étoiles are also nice finds. As for the more heavily trodden works, Debussy's Clair de lune is pleasantly moody, although no one would select this album for the rote Gaspard de la Nuit or the rather un-macabre Danse Macabre, Op. 40, of Saint-Saëns. For Poulenc lovers, however, this is an important find. © James Manheim /TiVo