The title of François Couturier's album, Un Jour Si Blanc, comes from a poem by Soviet filmmaker Andreï Tarkovsky, an artist with whom the pianist is fascinated and whose work was the inspiration for his entire 2006 album, Nostalghia: Song for Tarkovsky. The French pianist has devoted most of his career to jazz, but he obviously knows the classical repertoire well because in previous albums he has made musical references to composers as diverse as Pergolesi, Beethoven, Schoenberg, and Schnittke. That broad frame of reference gives his music an uncommon expressive scope, and the selections on this album offer an impressive stylistic and emotional range. It's possible to hear the influence of Messiaen in L'aube, Ligeti in the crystalline chromatic sections of the title track, and sultry hints of Piazzolla in Voyage d'hiver, but there is no sense of appropriation because the voice is always Couturier's own. His dazzlingly crisp technique gives him the freedom to explore and create pianistic figures that would be out of the reach of all but the most virtuosic players. In the more meditative pieces, he plays with a mesmerizing, unhurried serenity and flexibility; it almost feels like it's possible to hear him listening. Couturier can be heard quietly vocalizing in the more intense passages, but it's no distraction. The album should appeal to fans of both jazz and new classical music with a taste for the adventurous. ECM's sound is characteristically clean, clear, and immediate. © TiVo

Recorded in the Mennonite (Anabaptist) church in Haarlem, the Netherlands, this recording unfolds in very reverberant acoustic surroundings, giving it a slightly unreal aura that is perfectly suited to the sad, timeless poems of Wilhelm Müller's Winter Journey (Winterreise) set to music by Franz Schubert.Whether it's a dream or a nightmare, the overwhelming density of Schubert's message calls for artists who can embody this hopeless solitude. Mark Padmore had already recorded the cycle with Paul Lewis playing a modern piano. Kristian Bezuidenhout's personality, and his Viennese pianoforte, and Mark Padmore's light tenor voice (probably close to the one in which Schubert sang this cycle) give these pages an even more touching gravity, as they take aim at the prime of youth.The complicity and the mutual listening between the singer and the pianoforte form the basis of these two artists' work. The perceptible affectation in the singer's art is tempered by the simplicity and unfailing support of the pianoforte accompaniment. Here, this surprising romantic wandering takes on unusual and disconcerting resonances, opening up unsuspected horizons. © François Hudry/Qobuz

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There is an abundance of recordings of Schubert's two piano trios and of most of the other chamber pieces on this double album; one of them is even by the trio of players heard here, violinist Christian Tetzlaff, cellist Tanja Tetzlaff, and pianist Lars Vogt, but this one was made in the last year and a half of Vogt's life. He had not yet been diagnosed with the cancer that killed him in 2022, but he spoke of this as potentially one of his last recordings. Vogt seemed to be rushing to record as much as he could before his death, sometimes disregarding the advice of his doctors, and several of his last releases were very strong. This one is extraordinary. The brother-sister team of Christian and Tanja Tetzlaff are formidable chamber players, but here, they apply their skills to staying out of Vogt's way; he seems to direct the performances. They land somewhere between ecstatic and tragic. Sample the slow movement of the Piano Trio in E flat major, D. 929, which is something of a funeral march to begin with. Vogt's melody shines with transcendence. His lines in the Piano Trio in B flat major, D. 898, are soaring, shaped into a kind of momentum perhaps never before heard in this well-worn piece. There are several shorter pieces that are beautifully done, including a take on the comparatively rarer Arpeggione Sonata in A minor, D. 821, from Tanja Tetzlaff and Vogt. The main attraction is the pair of piano trios, and it is a bit sobering to ponder whether one must be staring death in the face to play like this.© James Manheim /TiVo

Adam Laloum has offered low-key Schubert in the past, and it has gone against the current grain of finding big Beethovenian drama in Schubert. Here, in the Piano Sonata in A major, D. 959, he shifts gears a bit. His first movement involves flexible tempos and a good deal of general instability. Then he settles down, resulting in a first-movement-heavy treatment of the sonata. It is unusual and probably fulfills the goal of standing out from the large crowd of recordings of this late Schubert work. Perhaps stronger are the six Moments Musicaux, where Laloum's perfect control results in crystalline miniatures that truly entrance the listener if external thoughts are set aside. Sample the Allegro, D. 780, No. 3, a perfect miniature. Harmonia Mundi finds idiomatic sound at the Théâtre Auditorium de Poitiers but mikes Laloum too closely, picking up a good deal of non-musical noise. Laloum is perhaps a pianist who excels in music of small dimensions, a valuable thing in a field where heroics are usually what is valued, and he produces an excellent example here.© James Manheim /TiVo

Nightfall is undoubtedly one of the most personal and intimate moments of our daily lives. We return home to our loved ones, slowly transitioning from the hubbub of the outside world to the silence of the evening. It’s to this unique time of day that Elīna Garanča wanted to dedicate her album When Night Falls…she invites us on a musical journey to the planet’s different countries and time zones.The mezzo-soprano of Latvian origin isn’t known solely for her unique timbre; her voice, warm and brimming with infinite strength, has proven itself for over 30 years in all of the greatest opera houses across the world . Elīna Garanča also speaks six languages fluently: along with Latvian, she speaks German, English, Spanish, Italian, and Russian, almost all of which are used on When Night Falls…for the first time, this album carves out a special place for her mother tongue, which Elīna Garanča justifies outright in an interview with Qobuz: “It’s been a long time coming for Latvian music to be heard, don’t you think?” Alongside lieder by composer Raimonds Pauls, living legend in Latvia and friend of the singer, we also find writings by Aspazija, “our national female poet,” set to music. Latvian repertoire is all the more present on this album for the vivid childhood memories the singer has kept of the familiar sounds that she heard in the evenings, and the songs that were sung to her to lull her to sleep. Yet given the subject at hand, how could we forget the great romantics? The album opens with Strauss’s “Wiegenlied (Lullaby),” followed by lieder by Brahms, Schubert, and Humperdinck. Elīna Garanča also dedicates a significant part of the album to Spanish and Italian repertoire, most notably by contemporary composers such as Manuel de Falla, Xavier Montsalvatge, and Luciano Berio. With virtuosity and a lovely diversity in timbre, with each shift in style, the singer achieves a true musical metamorphosis, backed by the formidable Orquesta Filarmónica de Gran Canaria, conducted by Karel Mark Chichon – her real-life spouse. “Each of my albums is a reflection of my internal state,” explains the soprano. Here, the withdrawal into a more intimate sphere – particularly in the uncertain times in which we live today – is incarnated by music that holds us tight, offering us a glimmer of hope within the darkness. © Lena Germann/Qobuz

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

This 2023 release inaugurates an ongoing series from baritone Samuel Hasselhorn and pianist Ammiel Bushakevitz, performing Schubert works two centuries on from their date of composition, and slated to culminate in 2028, the bicentennial of the composer's death. The project begins with one of the most famous Schubert song cycles of all, Die schöne Müllerin, D. 795, depicting the crackup and despair of a young wanderer who falls in love with a beautiful miller's daughter. Hasselhorn has plenty of recent competition in this cycle; listeners can sample the 2017 recording by Christian Gerhaher and Gerold Huber for another approach, but this one promises well for the ongoing project. Die schöne Müllerin is a work in which Schubert took vast strides toward the emancipation of the piano in the lied, and Bushakevitz leans into this aspect, with details that illuminate and often foreshadow themes developing in the text. Hasselhorn has a warm baritone with an appealing conversational tone that turns chilly and quiet toward the cycle's downer conclusion. Another draw is Harmonia Mundi's sound from the b-sharp studio in Berlin; the engineers put Bushakevitz just a bit forward in the mix, not so much as to sap energy from Hasselhorn's singing, but enough to highlight his perceptive performance. This release bodes well indeed for the duo's future work.© James Manheim /TiVo

Pianist Alexander Schmalcz has performed alongside many famous singers during his career and is also a talented arranger. At the request of Matthias Goerne, he orchestrated Schubert’s lieder in the spirit of similar works by Berlioz, Reger, Liszt and Webern. Matthias Goerne has performed these orchestrations in numerous concerts, both in Europe and in New York, as part of the Mostly Mozart Festival.Schmalcz’s arrangements are both rigorous and conscientious. They’re perfect for Matthias Goerne’s dark tone, which is particularly graceful on this recording made in October 2019 with the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen. Over the years, the German baritone’s voice has become even more well-rounded, finding deep golden bass tones.The orchestration gives these 20 lieder exceptional weight, further emphasised by the mellowness of the strings, the darkness of the trombones and the sometimes ominous use of the timpani. This orchestration plunges Schubert’s music into a romantic universe similar to lieder by Brahms and even Wolf, especially in Songs of the harpist (Gesänge des Harfners), The Erl-King (Erlkönig) and the famous lieder Death and the maiden (Der Tod und das Mädchen). The anachronism of these arrangements is magnified by the silky accompaniment of the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen and Matthias Goerne’s stunning vocals. © François Hudry/Qobuz

This is (apparently) the last in a series of releases from the Signum Quartett combining string quartets by the composer with arrangements of Schubert songs by the group's violist, Xandi van Dijk. That idea is unusual nowadays but wouldn't have been in Schubert's day. The idea is to put a personal flavor to Schubert's music, and quiet, clear recording ambiance of the Sendesaal Bremen contributes nicely to the effect. Here, the group's aim is right on the surface, for the album contains Schubert's first string quartet and his last one. Each seems to be on the verge of new breakthroughs. The String Quartet in G major, D. 18, written when Schubert was no more than 14, is an odd work, with each of its four movements in different keys. The movements may have been written at different times, but even the act of calling it a string quartet was an ambitious one. That work is nicely integrated with the songs by the group, which sets a quiet chamber atmosphere consistent with everything we know about the way Schubert's music was performed during his own lifetime. The String Quartet in G major, D. 887, is something else again, a large work stretching the boundaries of the genre as it was known. It was Schubert's last work in the genre. Yet even this fits with the general idea of the album; at the end of his life, with death a definite presence, he was striving toward new dimensions for the string quartet, just as he had at the beginning. The work stands out sharply from the others on the album and is played in a much more full-blooded way, but this is really the idea on a release that plunges the listener into Schubert's own life. © James Manheim /TiVo