Qobuzissime

It's a revelation. Not one of those spectacular ones that leave you stunned like after a boxing match. No, Jodyline Gallavardin is not the type of person to go overboard, preferring to rely on her airy phrasing, her sense of resonance and her skilful understanding of the scores of Cowell, Sibelius, Granados and all the other composers in this programme. After all, her first album, Lost Paradise, was "intended as a refuge from the hustle and bustle of our times, from the pervasive noise." Her recital invites contemplation and relaxation. If there is a revelation then, it is gentle, bewitching, almost hypnotic. The pianist, who graduated in 2015 from the CNSMD in Lyon, has very quickly woven her web in the piano forest and emerges, charming and enchanting, on the French, Italian and Swedish stages. There is a certain audacity in opening this disc with the millennial, even archaic, outbursts of Cowell's Three Irish Legends. It takes a solid coherence of style to then branch off into Sibelius' sylvan walks (Five Trees Op.75) with such naturalness. Jodyline Gallavardin, a mark of immense talent, manages to bring together the worlds of seven composers, who are in fact very different, while maintaining a strong guideline, that of suspended time and dreamlike meditation. Under her fingers, Sibelius' pieces conjure up a magnificent pastoral universe of trees, streams and mossy rocks, while Amy Beach's Hermit Trush becomes a free and dreamy walk. As for Schubert, he has never been so romantic and languid. The pages of Granados, Séverac and Ravel that follow benefit from the same choice of treatment. Gallavardin combines the intelligent construction of the programme with a total dedication to the emotion contained in each of the works she performs here with the utmost sensitivity to offer us an album that has certainly not stolen its Qobuzissime. © Pierre Lamy/Qobuz

In April 2021, Decca announced the signing of a contract with new young conductor, Klaus Mäkelä (born 1996), shortly after his appointment by the Orchestre de Paris as musical advisor for two years and then musical director from September 2022. The English label signed a conductor for the first time in several decades, in this case another student of Jorma Panula, who played an important role in many careers at the Sibelius Academy in Helsinki. In addition, to enter the recording scene with a complete set of Sibelius' seven symphonies is a daring venture. Each work in the cycle, which is particularly complex, is unique.Discographically, the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra is not necessarily associated with Sibelius's orchestral works, having made few recordings apart from the four symphonies (Nos. 1, 2, 3 & 5) recorded with Mariss Jansons for EMI in the early 1990s, which suffered from a very reverberant sound recording. This is not the case with this Decca recording as the technical teams have done a remarkable job in recording. The listener will perceive everything about Sibelius' orchestral writing, the depth of the textures in particular, all the more so as Klaus Mäkelä masterfully takes care of the balances (Symphony No. 1), the numerous polyphonic exchanges, in the course of visions with moderate tempos. The listener will feel every bit of Sibelius' orchestral writing, the depth of the textures in particular, all the more so as Klaus Mäkelä masterfully maintains the balances (Symphony No. 1) as well as the numerous polyphonic exchanges in the flow of moderate tempo. There are no shocking contrasts or explosive breaks here. Klaus Mäkelä's gestures are extremely calm and composed. The conductor is not very receptive to the composer's rhythmic surges and phrases the broad lines with impressive majesty (Finale of the 3rd Symphony). Klaus Mäkelä does not exacerbate the contrasts between the orchestral blocks here. With remarkable respect for the silky nature of the Norwegian orchestra, he always tries to bring about fusion and promotes tonal continuity between the vocal groups. Even Symphony No. 4, composed during Sibelius's darkest period, is, under the direction of Klaus Mäkelä, largely bright, a far cry from the frightening cataclysms of Ernest Ansermet (Decca, 1963) or Sir Thomas Beecham (BBC Legends, in concert, 1954).Throughout the seven symphonies, this Sibelius work, marked by a general desire for euphony, is unquestionably distinguished by the coherence of the conductor’s vision and the sumptuousness of his production. © Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz

The night has never ceased to inspire artists, whether in literature, painting or music. And for good reason: is it not the place of intimacy, introspection and - above all - of the imagination? When the mystery of the night is expressed in music, and in particular on the harp, it touches us all and evokes very concrete images in each of us. In her album Nightscapes, Magdalena Hoffmann has set herself the task of capturing the magic of the night: "My instrument is the ideal vehicle for this intimate, but also magical and fantastic atmosphere. It's not for nothing that the harp often corresponds to celestial or underworld moments in the orchestra.The German harpist, born in 1990 in Basel, discovered her favourite instrument at an early age. Her career took a turn when, in 2016, she received two special prizes at the ARD International Competition. Two years later, she became principal harp in the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. In 2021 she signed an exclusive contract with Deutsche Grammophon, and Nightscapes is her first project.The album consists of original compositions for harp and arrangements of piano pieces. The former includes Benjamin Britten's Suite for Harp, Op. 83, a key work in the 20th-century repertoire for the instrument. There is also the Danse des lutins by Henriette Renié (1875-1956), a French harpist for whom Fauré, Debussy and Ravel composed.Magdalena Hoffmann also performs pieces by Chopin, Clara Schumann, John Field, Ottorino Respighi and Marcel Tournier. The genre of Nocturnes, in particular, conveys the intimate and mystical atmosphere that made it one of the most typical character pieces of Romanticism. But the light, dancing sound of the harp is also perfectly suited to Chopin's waltzes or Jean-Michel Damase's Fantaisie. Hoffmann, for her part, sublimates the very special intimacy of the instrument's sound. A magical stroll through the night. © Lena Germann/Qobuz

Two is better than one. What’s better than a pair of hands for playing the piano? Two pairs of hands! Considered 'intimate', the four-handed piano genre has long been confined to inner circles; played in front of friends but rarely in concert. There are of course some famous exceptions (almost always sibling pairings), such as the Labèque sisters, the Walachowski sisters or, among the younger generation, Lucas and Arthur Jussen. It is therefore all the more refreshing to see two ‘independent’ pianists, David Salmon and Manuel Vieillard, making their mark on the world of chamber music by performing the piano duo repertoire on the biggest stages.Graduates of the Hochschule für Musik Hanns Eisler in Berlin and the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Musique et de Danse in Paris, Manuel Vieillard and David Salmon are concert performers of the highest level. Between meeting during their studies at the CRR in Paris and the beginning of their international career, a musical symbiosis was born, with the desire to form a "real" duo - not just to meet for concerts. The wish certainly came true: after almost ten years of collaboration, the duo won first prize in the prestigious ARD International Music Competition (Munich). They have now delivered their first album, released on Mirare: Schumann - Brahms - Dvořák, a fine selection of romantic pieces on which the colours of the piano shine through two-fold.Although the composers chosen are among the most famous of the Romantic era, this album offers up innovative and little-known pieces that have rarely been performed or recorded to date. From the very first of these, Schumann's Images d'Orient (Bilder aus Osten, op. 66), you can clearly feel the complicity and complementarity attitudes of the two instrumentalists. The piece carries us away with its changing moods, taking us through all emotions. The romantic and melancholic atmosphere is also wonderfully captured on Brahms' Variations on a Theme of Schumann, Op. 23, in which the composer pays tribute to his colleague and mentor. The album ends with Dvořák's piano cycle From the Bohemian Forest (Ze Šumavy), op. 68, a masterpiece of the four-hand piano repertoire masterfully performed by Salmon and Vieillard, whose unique artistic symbiosis shines through once again. Without doubt, two is better than one! A beautiful Qobuzissime to start off the new year! © Lena Germann/Qobuz

The Solem Quartet is no stranger to the classical and contemporary music world. As winners of the Jerwood Arts Live Work Fund 2020, they are one of the UK's most significant artistic voices. In addition, the ensemble stands out for its musical diversity and openness due to its involvement in innovative projects as well as collaborations with artists from different genres. Now the four musicians from England release their long-awaited debut album, The Four Quarters on Orchid Classics: a musical, transcendent journey influenced by composers from the Baroque period to the present. Despite such a diverse selection of compositions, one piece stands out as spanning the entire album: Thomas Ades' masterpiece The Four Quarters. The four movements meander through the enormous range of recordings and appear between arrangements by Henry Purcell, Florence Price, Béla Bartók and Robert Schumann. Ades' composition is based on the cycle of the day as a central metaphor - a ramble from the early hours of the morning to the depths of the night. The juxtaposition of time and space, earth and sky is also reflected in the music. In the first movement, 'Nightfalls', the violins sound fine overtones in regular patterns, the viola and cello play the deep harmony far below and thus remain grounded. Another highlight of the album is certainly the interpretation of Aaron Parker's 'easqelä'. It is the fourth movement of the five-part work 'Tuoretu', which was composed specifically for the Solem Quartet. The name was invented freely and refers to the eternal expanses of eastern England as well as the fading colours of the sunset, which, just like the sounds, merge boundlessly into one another. The melancholic, haunting viola solo, underpinned by the dim fifth and fourth parallels of the other strings, reinforces the ever-present transcendence and once again draws out the fundamental elements of the album: closeness to nature, dreamscapes and timelessness. And even though it is the penultimate track on the record, the end of the musical dream journey is far from in sight...With The Four Quarters, the Solem Quartet releases a unique and highly inspiring album that sets its own timeless anchor between contemporary art and traditional sounds. © Lena Germann/Qobuz

Gaspar Claus' first solo album is long overdue! Over the past fifteen years, the cellist has travelled, met and collaborated with many great artists from a multitude of backgrounds: from his father Pedro Soler to Barbara Carlotti, from Rone to Bryce Dessner. With all these influences under his belt, all that remained was for the musician to find the best possible home for the release of Tancade: the label InFiné. It's an eminently personal album as this is the first time Gaspar Claus has been out on his own. We should also salute the remarkable contributions made by Francesco Donadello and David Chalmain in mastering and mixing this record, giving it a unique sound which is rich in contrasts.The material is minimalistic; with nothing but a cello, Claus captivates with the variety of his compositions, making an infinitely diverse use of his instrument's innumerable possibilities. Pizzicatis, bowing that is alternately smooth and grating, resonance in the low notes answered by aerial high notes... a true sonic architect, this performer succeeds in making each of this work's tracks into a world of its own, each summoning unique sensations. We are drawn into the almost tribal and hypnotising trance of the percussive 'Une foule' before entering the more meditative atmosphere of the crepuscular '1999'. One can only admire Claus' genius in sculpting so much material with so few tools, the contribution of electronics being limited to a bare minimum with only discreet reverb or distortion effects.Tancade's great strength lies in the way that it never sinks into mere demonstrations of technical skill. This album is not a simple catalogue of everything a cellist can do with their instrument. On each track, the composition and execution are all determined by the atmosphere that the artist wishes to create. Gaspar Claus has created a magnificent album, full of inventiveness and poetry, which reconnects the listener with a host of age-old emotions. So it's hardly a stretch to declare that Tancade is sure to become an essential classic of the contemporary cello. © Pierre LAMY Qobuz

The extraordinary recital "Le clavecin mythologique", also for the Versailles-based label L'Encelade, provides an original pretext for a colourful and inspired exploration of the harpsichord repertoire of eighteenth-century France (mainly). Once again, the Austrian Anne Marie Dragosits lavishes us with her art for enchantment and takes us into the heart of the night, a moment conducive to dreaming and beyond that, into her imagination and world of artistic creation. Taking its origins from the idea of sleep, which came from French music (and brought to its peak by Lully in his lyrical tragedies, starting with Atys), Dragosits invites us on a journey which takes - curiously, and this is where all the interest lies - its roots in Germany between the 17th and 18th centuries and not France.The Bach dynasty is well represented on this album, from the sons to the father: Wilhelm Friedemann and his incredible Fantasia, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach and his Variations on "Ich schlief, da träumte mir" that preceed a few other pieces at the opening of the programme, including the very beautiful La Mémoire Raisonnée from a set of little-known miniatures, Wq. 117. From Johann Sebastian, Anne Marie Dragosits chose the too rare Praeludium (Harpeggiando), BWV 921, a true keyboard improvisation that is full of contrasts and explosive joy, whose hybrid tone recalls Buxtehude's "stylus phantasticus". The harpsichordist then inserts, here and there, according to her own whim - and no doubt her dreams - a few pieces by Graupner, Fischer and Kuhnau. From the former, two very beautiful pieces entitled "Sommeille", taken from two different suites by the composer. On the sublime Christian Zell harpsichord of 1728 - one of the most beautiful harpsichords in the world, preserved in the Museum of Decorative Arts in Hamburg - Dragosits then deploys treasures of tenderness, as well as implacable majesty. Her playing is constantly impressive, even in the Passacaglia by Johann Caspar Ferdinand Fischer, the apotheosis of the first part of the programme, bursting with Lully like influences which were to have a strong influence on the young J. S. Bach.A supreme testimony to a discreet harpsichordist with a captivating musicality, this recital "Ich schlief, da träumte mir", has a highly original programme and often very subtle transitions. Bach's Komm süßer Tod followed by Kuhnau's Biblical Sonata No. 4 should not be enjoyed in any other way than on a stroll, especially as the instrument itself remains perpetually enchanting, with its incredibly deep bass and its stunningly beautiful lute playing; however if all this frightens you, perhaps start with the Sommeille from Graupner's "Febrarius" Suite: such a moment of capricious gentleness and sublime tenderness will undoubtedly not leave you by the side of the road! © Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz-------For thousands of years, mankind has been concerned with the interpretation of dreams, seeking medical and philosophical explanations of all that happens to us during sleep. At the same time, mankind has been obsessed with the images of dreams – be they beautiful or terrible, like an imaginary theatre – offering a rich playground for all branches of art.Hypnos, son of night and darkness, is the god of sleep. As Ovid reports, his sons are the Oneiroi, the dream gods being, Morpheus who is able to take on human form, Phobetor, the horror who slips into the skin of wild animals and Phantasos who appears in the form of inanimate nature. Hypnos’ realm is guarded by Hesychia (calm), Aergia (indolence) and Lethe (oblivion). While Hypnos is often called the “generous one,” his twin brother is Thanatos, "the gentle death"; and often the two often appear together. These and other nocturnal visitors find their matching counterparts in music. The selection of musical pieces for this most subjectively arranged recording is as varied as night’s images. Certain titles make references to the night and dream worlds. Other works were chosen partly for describable musical reasons, partly in free association with my own subjective dream visions. A significant stake in the choice of program was claimed by the highly characteristic sound of the harpsichord by Christian Zell (1728). As one of the few surviving and playable large German harpsichords, its clarity and transparency embodies the music of the German high baroque ideally. But the great sonic difference between the warm, resonant lower manual and a very brilliant and nasal upper manual (which is nevertheless equipped with great lyrical qualities) also provides the instrument – together with its charming lute stop and a four-foot stop that is as clear as a bell, along with the roaring sonority of the coupled registers – all the colours and possibilities necessary for gallant music. (Anne Marie Dragosits) © L'Encelade

Caroline Shaw is the definition of an artist in its purest form. She is someone who denies categorisation. Shaw began as a classically trained violinist and vocalist, and later branched out into composition and production. From there she has worked with artists such as Kanye West (The Life of Pablo; Ye) and Nas (NASIR), and has contributed to records by The National and Arcade Fire’s Richard Reed Parry. And as if that wasn’t already an impressive resume, in 2013 Shaw not only won, but was the youngest ever recipient of a Pulitzer Prize in music for her Partita in 8 Voices, and her 2019 album Orange won a Grammy Award. Let the Soil Play Its Simple Part is a collaboration between Caroline Shaw and contemporary percussion ensemble Sō Percussion (Eric Cha-Beach, Josh Quillen, Adam Sliwinski, and Jason Treuting). The group were given three days of gratis studio time, and three little days were all it took for them to get out this versatile, radiant and sometimes surprising album. It's a pick'n'mix of songs with lyrics inspired by their own eclectic interests: James Joyce, the Sacred Harp hymn book, a poem by Anne Carson, the Bible's Book of Ruth, the gospel standard "I’ll Fly Away," and the pop prowess of ABBA, among many others.The opening track, "To the Sky", takes its lyrics from a hymn by Anne Steele in the Sacred Harp. The album begins like haunting meditation with sprinkles of sporadic synthesiser, drum and marimba rhythms that eventually evolve into a rolling rhythm section that keeps the piece moving as Shaw's vocals soar over the top. Shaw mentions "This (hymn) I love in particular. There's a line, 'Frail solace of an hour/ So soon our transient comforts fly/ And pleasure blooms to die.' It’s meditation on the ephemeral, and I love it." This track leads into the second track "Other Song" which has a similar rhythmic groove and is accompanied by Shaw's vocals and lyrics which she wrote herself.  The title track is one of the surprises mentioned earlier, a simple duet between Shaw and Josh Quillen that only took two takes to get down. Quillen's playing is sensitive yet refined and you can feel the energy bouncing between the two artists as Shaw passes lyrics reminiscent of a lost loved one to Quillen, and he palms back soft lines of resonant melodies on the steel drum.The lyrics to "The Flood is Following Me" are quite literally just "the flood is following me," taken from James Joyce's Ulysses. Although simple, they are effective, and are accompanied by an indie-pop influenced backing. Speaking of pop music, there is another beautiful surprise right around the corner with Sō and Shaw's interpretation of the ABBA hit "Lay All Your Love on Me." This marimba/vocal duet is a darker, more sombre take on the classic that's hauntingly effective. After the familiar melody, the track then spirals into a Bach chorale accompanied by Shaw's backing harmonies, an ingenious move on the artist's behalf.  The piece progressively builds in tension as old and new are blended to create this sublimely sensitive and modern interpretation of a classic. Truly something that has never been done before.As the album progresses, each track seems to be an evolution of the one prior. "Long Ago We Counted," a duet between Jason Treuting on drum kit and solo voice, has a rough and hard to understand beginning, yet somehow we are lulled into this rolling vocal loop as it settles into a indie-rock type track.  Album closer "Some Bright Morning," based on a 12th century liturgical song, is a glorious beam of light at the of Shaw and Sō Percussion's twisted tunnel. The droning of Cha-Beach on the Hammond organ supporting the resonant vocal line is a simple but powerful close to the album.As you look through the credits, which is strongly recommended, you will find an assorted array of inspirations who have contributed to the lyrics. As you listen, the album continues to unfold into a monolithic, multifaceted masterpiece of contemporary classical, indie-pop, rock rhythm, world music inspiration and literally everything else in between. Shaw's ability to understand text and construct complete new meanings and unique settings for those words is unparalleled.  Let the Soil Play Its Simple Part is unlike anything else and defies classification; one needs to take the time to explore the ins and outs of the entire album to fully comprehend the masterstrokes of Caroline Shaw and Sō Percussion. © Jessica Porter-Langson/Qobuz

"Vieux pays merveilleux des contes de nourrice" (‘Old marvellous land of nursery tales’): These few words describe the irresistible and striking interpretation of Ravel's Shéhérazade, now of a bygone era. The timbral lows and highs radiate from Egyptian soprano Fatma Said’s voice. Her exemplary diction shines. Each word is intelligible and each sound exists to colour the word, emphasising its meaning. Nobody would have thought that the singer’s extremely versatile musicality – reminiscent of Regine Crespin’s vibrant performances – would find an even greater versatility in the orchestral version, with Malcolm Martineau’s beautifully timbred and precise piano occasionally slowing things down.The program completely immerses itself in Spain, with Rafael Aguirre’s subtle guitar substituting itself for Martineau’s piano. Other facets of Fatma Said’s voice are her musical agility and ethereal spirit, which are revealed in the two Falla pieces. The Canción de Marinela by José Serrano, where her voice thickens, will remain an unforgettable moment of sweet sensuality. It's easy to start dreaming of Said exploring some other roles in zarzuelas, for which she would be divine! The three songs by Federico García Lorca, excerpts of the 13 Canciones españolas antiguas, are rather modest and of a noble elegance, even in the carnal arabesques of Nana de Sevilla. This is the perfect transition for the ‘Arabic’ songs that Fatma Said chooses next.She introduces, for example, a pretty melody from Egyptian composer Gamal Abdel-Rahim (1924-1988), before flying off into the gorgeous Adieux de l’hôtesse arabe by Bizet where Burcu Karadağ's nev (a sort of reed flute) improvises in counterpoint alongside the vocals. The last four pieces return to the Egyptian and Lebanese standards, in a jazzy and nostalgic atmosphere. This is a captivating album with overwhelming emotion! © Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz

If the Richter Ensemble is a new name to you, then that's because in the grand scheme of things it's relatively new on the block, formed as recently as 2018 by British-Brazilian Baroque violinist and former Academy of Ancient Music concertmaster, Rodolfo Richter. Its other members are equally drawn from across the world of Historically Informed Performance, and while HIP credentials may not at first glance seem an obvious fit for a debut album of Second Viennese School repertoire, they actually point both to the group's mission statement and its unique selling point – to highlight hidden connections between repertoire ranging from the seventeenth to the twenty first centuries, with all of that repertoire played exclusively on gut strings. Back to the recording in hand, and this is the first installment of a project to record the complete Second Viennese School string quartets on gut strings, and it is very fine indeed. Repertoire-wise, they take us through chronologically, beginning with Webern's ardent one-movement Langsamer Satz of 1905, couched in the language of late Romantic chromaticism; then Schoenberg's String Quartet No. 2 of 1907-8, one of his first forays into atonality which features a mezzo soprano for its latter two movements setting poems by Stefan George; after which comes Berg's two-movement String Quartet Op. 3 of 1910, equally exploring atonality. Sound-wise, beyond super-glued chamber playing and wonderfully rich-toned and emotive vocal performances from mezzo Mireille Lebel, what really makes these interpretations stand out is the way they place the works in their immediate Viennese context: the fact that it wasn't a hard-edged brand of modernism that was in everyone's heads during these early ventures beyond tonality, but instead the music of Brahms, Mahler and Wagner; and all this amid a wider expressionist and symbolist artistic context that equally blended Romanticism and modernism – think of Gustav Klimt's paintings. So, beyond the greater softness and wider coloristic palette offered by those aforementioned gut strings, we also get tonal sheen, subtle “portamentos”, and a singing freedom to their lines. We are also at a period pitch slightly lower than today's standard: A=432Hz compared to the current 440Hz. Yet all this Romantic gorgeousness is still sounding clean as a whistle – just thanks to the nineteenth century practice of using vibrato only sparingly. Even if Second Viennese School isn't your usual bag, I urge you to give it a spin. This is likely to be a very covetable series indeed. © Charlotte Gardner/Qobuz

After Glass Cage in 2000 and Glass Piano in 2015, New York Julliard graduate pianist Bruce Brubaker returns to his obsession with Philip Glass. Brubaker taught Francesco Tristano, who went on to create many bridges between classical and electronic music. He is also one of Philip Glass’ specialists, a composer that he has played and reinterpreted many times.This time, Brubaker chose to team up with Irish musician Max Cooper, the flagship of IDM. Cooper who, on his last album, Yearning for the Infinite, invented a sort of “chaos generator”, was the perfect candidate for a tribute to one of the masters of minimalism. In the album, the seminal piece Two Pages (1968) acts as a “single track” (provided that this concept has any meaning here). It is a ten-minute hypnotic piano solo deepened by the modular synthesizer that Cooper adds to the background. The record opens and closes with two key pieces: Metamorphosis 2, a cathartic composition, and one of Glass’ major “hits,” and the Opening of Glassworks where Max Cooper’s discrete work reinforces the piece’s contemplative feel. © Smaël Bouaici/Qobuz

The most striking aspect of these Preludes by Chopin undertaken by Eric Lu is the absolutely lyrical tranquility that dominates the forty-minute-long journey which is so arduous to build fluidly and coherently. Eric Lu deserves admiration for the expressive and polyphonic unity that he brings to the cycle, which is usually more contrasted. The American’s playing resounds as his phrases transport you on a grand, noble journey of emotion. Behind this soft façade is a somewhat more tragic melancholy, which increases over the course of the album and reveals the sombre, or at the very least anxious nature of the 24 Preludes. Chopin is at his darkest romanticism, not too far removed from the Schumann of the Kreisleriana (April 1838). It comes as no surprise that Lu continues his second recital for Warner Classics with one of Schumann’s strangest works, the Theme and Variations in E-flat major, composed in 1854 as a sort of swan song by the German romantic composer. In this tribute to masters of the past including Bach and Beethoven, Schumann risks using particularly stripped back polyphonies in rarefied pianissimo nuances; in doing so, Eric Lu creates a direct link with Chopin’s cycle, firmly remaining on the gentle and meditative side (Variations 2 and 5), without searching for any particular contrast. Placing fourth in the 2015 International Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw, where he already impressed with his rendition of the 24 Preludes, the young American pianist Eric Lu (born in 1997) delivers a captivating recital on this album, sometimes bewildering, but definitely the most accomplished of the three already published − the first was released on German label Genuin. This is definitely a musician to be followed very closely. © Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz

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Six quartets: six works that are key to understanding what Joseph Haydn brought to western music. This effort by the Quatuor Hanson is particularly successful because they are past masters in constructing and expressing the soul of this subtle art. And what's more, they bring it off with a fascinating level of instrumental skill. Listening to this piece, we have to bow down once again before the genius of a composer who, along with Boccherini, invented a new genre and immediately studded it with masterpieces of staggering quality. Judiciously picked out from among Haydn's vast corpus, these six quartets are touching both in their expressiveness and in the perfection of their writing. Not a single note out of place, a perfect balance of four voices and inspired right from the first moment up to the incomplete closing Opus 77, which was a contemporary of Beethoven's first Quartets, Op. 18 – works that betray the lessons their writer learned from his master. More than two hundred years after his death, Haydn has only just found recognition as one of the greats, although he had been accorded that status during his life. But his works for keyboards, the symphonies, the oratorios, and to a lesser extent, the operas, speak in his favour. More than a forerunner, Haydn is a founder, a genius whose influence was felt by those who came after him, foremost amongst whom Beethoven and Schubert. This splendid album puts him (back) in his rightful place. © François Hudry/Qobuz

Born in a small Norwegian village in 1987 (and is thus inevitably compared to her long-time compatriot Kirsten Flagstad), soprano Lise Davidsen was almost built to embody Wagnerian and Straussian heroines. For her first record under the label Decca, with whom she has signed an exclusive contract, she has chosen to present several facets of femininity in the vocal stylings of Elisabeth (Tannhäuser), Ariane (Ariane à Naxos) and… Pauline. Pauline being Richard Strauss’ beloved wife to whom he dedicated many Lieder from his opus 27 - the 1894 cycle offered to his wife as a wedding gift - until the last Vier letzte Lieder in 1948.Under the supple baton of Esa-Pekka Salonen, the Philharmonic Orchestra embraces the brassy voice of the Norwegian soprano with finesse and elegance. As you will see, this record, with its carefully devised programme, oscillates between youth and old age, in the presence of ghosts and death. You may wonder how one can express mortality at just 30 years old with such a powerful timbre, radiant health and a whole life ahead of you. The answer lies in Lise Davidsen’s voice, which upsurges as if it were a promise of immortality, the music of the last Strauss piece returning one last time to its past, to a Europe in ruins.Discovered in 1984, after the death of the singer and dedicatee Maria Jeritza, Malven (“The Mallows") is Richard Strauss’ true “last song”. Lighter in tone than the Vier letzte Lieder to which it might have belonged, it is presented here in an orchestration by Wolfgang Rihm. © François Hudry/Qobuz

This spectacular new release of Maurice Duruflé’s complete choral output uncovers hidden gems of French classical music. Infused with modal harmonies and plainsong, Maurice Duruflé's choral works look back to Gregorian chant. The composer also found inspiration in the likes of Gabriel Fauré and Claude Debussy, incorporating definite lines and close harmonies into his music, and the result is astonishingly simple. His works were part of a whole stylistic movement in the 20th century (one that was far removed from neoclassicism) that tried to trace music back to its origins, separating itself from all the trappings of theatre and performance, and moving away from the highly abstract tendencies that characterised much of the music in the post-war period. Is Gregorian chant the “mother” of all music? Quite possibly. Duruflé aimed to create a serene, gentle mood all the while echoing a contemporary trend, one that was still emerging yet already rather developed, centred around harmony and floating atmospheres in the hope of bringing people together in communion. With little to show by way of recordings yet much by way of talent, the Houston Chamber Choir give a beautiful performance of the French composer's works. Their radiant singing is well worth discovering, made all the more breathtaking by the generous acoustics of the Edythe Bates Old Recital Hall at Rice University, which allow the conductor Robert Simpson to use broad phrasings. The conductor adds an especially touching quality to these naturally expressive works, making this recording – which is as moving as the composer's earlier recordings (Erato) - an ideal gateway into Duruflé’s hypnotic universe (Messe “Cum Jubilo”). It should be noted that despite his relatively long life, Duruflé’s composed only fourteen works. His final composition Notre Père (which lasts just ninety seconds!) was written especially for the Catholic Church though was never performed due to its sheer difficulty. This modest number of compositions reflects Duruflé’s crippling self-criticism and continuous search for perfection. This Houston Chamber Choir recording is a wonderful opportunity to rediscover one of the best kept secrets of the 20th century. © Qobuz

For her first recital with orchestra album, young Franco-Danish soprano Elsa Dreisig had the idea of presenting five pairs of songs in which each part of the pair is ambiguously related to the other, like a mirror’s reflection. This process leads to striking juxtapositions of different musical styles, dramatic moments, historical periods and contrasting voices; classicism and romanticism complement each other, terror answers joy, and the result is a view of the feminine soul all its facets. The first pairing involves two mirrors: the one in which Marguerite from Gounod's Faust admires herself and Thaïs's mirror in Massenet's opera (Thaïs). There follows Puccini's vision of Manon Lescaut, and then Manon (sans Lescaut) as imagined by Massenet. Following this we have Juliette, this is a rather daring pairing of the largely-forgotten early romantic German composer Daniel Steibelt with Gounod's Juliette. Elsa Dreisig then moves onto the two famous Figaros, one from Rossini's Barber (Rosina) and the other from Mozart's Marriage, with the gentle tones of the Countess. Finally, and more daring still, we end with the Salome of the Hérodiade by Massenet, a tender young woman who is not after anyone's head; and then Strauss's Salome, with her sanguinary madness. Probably in order to avoid the temptation of comparisons with other recordings, our singer has opted for the 1907 French version – note that this work by Oscar Wilde was itself originally written in French. This is the most extraordinary selection that one could hope for in a first recording from any artist, all accompanied by the Montpelier Orchestra, conducted by Michael Schønwandt. © SM/Qobuz

Why yes, it is still possible to discover Bernstein scores, or in this case the chamber version of A Quiet Place, adapted by Garth Edwin Sunderland, conducted and recorded for the first time by Kent Nagano, at the Montreal Symphony House. The final stage score by the American composer, first performed at the Houston Grand Opera in 1983, it was revisited by the librettist Stephen Wadsworth, and the composer who added several fragments from the one-act piece Trouble in Tahiti, from 1951; this addition would see two new performances (the Scala in Milan, and Washington). Another draft – this one definitive – was performed at the Vienna Opera House, conducted by the composer, in 1986. Fascinating in more ways than one, rather like a modern-day Intermezzo by Strauss, the work depicts American society by way of an existential crisis faced, first by one couple, (Trouble in Tahiti) and then by one family. Bernstein borrowed from Mahler for the structure, with a final movement whose "grave nobility" recalled the final movements of the Third and NinthSymphonies by his much-admired forebear. As is often the case with this composer, Bernstein's mix of styles (jazz, chorale, Broadway, Mahler, Berg, Britten, Copland…) provides an explosive cocktail, which has about it more of a musical conversation than grand opera – and, paradoxically, that's what makes this work so unique... And so charming. This is well worth a re-discovery, this time under the baton of Bernstein's faithful former pupil, Kent Nagano, at the head of top-flight solo singers, who point the way to that "quiet place", where "love will teach us harmony and grace". © Franck Mallet/Qobuz

A 31 year-old Canadian, Jean-Michel Blais is no stranger to the neoclassical stage. After a first album bearing the sober title "II", on Caroline Distribution, this offering consists of a new collection of tracks, (most of which have already been released separately over recent weeks) which are possessed of an irrepressible lyricism. On board his piano, which he has transformed into a magical music box, he travels with the winds, following the currents of his own insatiable creativity. In the middle, Blind, perhaps the most seductive track of these forty-five minutes (alongside sourdine…), immerses us in an ideal vision of a music which mixes acoustics and machines into a soothing and velvety whole. god(s) takes us somewhere else, to church perhaps: but the return of synths shows that Jean-Michel Blais might perhaps have different gods in mind. igloo could have been a spiritual, even pantheist, track, but Blais, who isn't above a little caustic wit, is quite urban about it: the "igloo" in question is a reference to contemporary cities, full of "caverns", where everything is stacked over everything else. Henceforth, Blais's name will be synonymous with unique sonic flavours. But there is something here of that bitter, fraternal, soft and sensual melancholy that runs through much of North American music, and which permeates the sonic spaces of a Copland (Quiet City) or a Bernard Herrmann (Les Neiges du Kilimandjaro) and the obstinate figures of a Steve Reich (The Four Sections) or the curling wisps of one of the most imaginative representatives of Canadian pop, like Patrick Watson ― think of the latter's Lighthouse where we find that same vision of the instrument, as if stripped of its hammers. Jean-Michel Blais takes his time, discreetly. Under his elegant veneer, he knows how to be tenacious: his quotations (from the entrancingly slow movement of Rachmaninov's Second Concerto, for example, on roses) make for salutary and soothing escapes. Blais is holding out his hand to you. It would be rude to turn him down. © Pierre-Yves Lascar/Qobuz

Nowadays it might seem rather strange to describe a composer as a “singing master”, but, during the eighteenth century, this was not the case at all. In Italy, almost every composer worthy of the name wrote opere serie (Porpora wrote at least forty- ve): serious opera was the dominant musical genre, glorifying the human voice above everything else. It was the maker or breaker of musical reputations, with its nest singers the rst superstars of music. Therefore composers, though generally eclipsed by the fame of their leading men and women, needed to understand the human voice and all its remarkable capabilities, both technical and histrionic, in order to be able to exploit the possibilities of the operatic form at a time when those “machines made for singing”, the castrati, had brought the vocal art to a pitch of perfection never known before, nor equalled since. Though this recording is bringing Porpora’s name to public attention again on the 250th anniversary of his death, his fame as a singing teacher has probably obscured, until recently, his remarkable qualities as a composer, quite simply because two of the most famous castrati were among his many pupils, namely Gaetano Majorano, known as Caffarelli, whom Porpora once called “the nest singer in Europe”, also famed for his amorous antics and arrogance on- and off-stage, and the even more celebrated Carlo Broschi, who, under his stage name of Farinelli, amazed audiences and set hearts a- utter for fteen years throughout Europe, before being called to Spain to heal a crazed King by the power of his voice. Max Cencic remarks: “Porpora was a severe teacher, I think, maybe almost sadistic in his demands — you need 120% control of breath, brain and voice”. Legend indeed has it that he taught Caffarelli one page of exercises, and those alone, for six years. The formal alternation of aria and recitative in opera seria conceals a great range of emotional expression, that varietas that Erasmus famously described as “so powerful in every sphere that there is absolutely nothing, however brilliant, which is not dimmed if not commended by variety”. In such forms as the orid aria di bravura or the lyrical aria di sostenuto, the composer’s fantasy only provided a framework for the singer to embroider: the performer’s skill in ornamentation and other emotional devices was of paramount importance. Porpora’s many years of both teaching and composing experience made him, in Max Cencic’s opinion, “one of the top ten composers of Italian Baroque opera. I chose the arias for this recording almost by instinct, by what ‘felt right’. There is no way one can encompass a composer of such quality in one album, and each piece is a treasure in its own right. Though technical display is everywhere — leaps, rapid scales, trills, long phrases — Porpora’s special and utterly captivating melodic gift always shines through.” The arias are all taken from works composed at the height of Porpora’s fame, from Ezio (Venice 1728; “Se tu la reggi al volo” is a semiquaver spectacular) to Filandro (Dresden 1747, with a ravishing siciliano in “Ove l’erbetta tenera, e molle”), including three of the operas he composed for London during the 1730s, in direct competition with Handel (Arianna in Nasso 1733, Enea nel Lazio 1734 — real reworks here in “Chi vuol salva” — and I genia in Aulide 1735). The Teatro San Carlo in Naples, perhaps the most famous of all opera houses at that time, saw the premiere of Il trionfo di Camilla in 1740, and the two arias recorded here show Porpora at his best: the music of “Va per le vene il sangue” evocatively matches its darkly suggestive text, while “Torcere il corso all’onde” combines rapid- re coloratura with elegance of line. In the three arias from Carlo il Calvo (Teatro delle Dame, Rome 1738) the singer is similarly called to match Porpora’s varietas with his own: from the scurrying oriture of “So che tiranno io sono” to the high-lying phrases of “Se rea ti vuole il cielo”, and the beguilingly hypnotic sostenuto of “Quando s’oscura il cielo”. Porpora’s orchestral writing is also remarkably varied, all the more so in that he generally uses only strings, nowhere better than in the elaborate lines of “Torbido intorno al core” from Meride e Selinunte (Venice 1726), where voice and violins entwine in an elaborate and emotionally suggestive web of divisions. However, sometimes he pulls out all the sonority stops, as in the martial “Destrier, che all’armi usato” where, at the rst performance in the Teatro Regio, Turin in 1731 trumpets and horns vied with the unmatchable power of the voice of Farinelli. As Max Cencic has said: “How can we emulate the great castrati? That is hard to pin down, but these voices were the very soul of Porpora’s music.” -Nicholas Clapton © 2018 – Decca Group Limited

For their first recording, the Arod Quartet has selected Mendelssohn, one of the pillars of the quartet's art, in particular his masterpiece, the Fourth Quartet in E Minor of June 1837 - more Mozartian than Beethovian in its structure and development, to be sure, even if it bears Mendelssohn's hallmark from the first note to the last. To find the influence of the deaf genius, we have to look in the Second Quartet Op. 13 of 1827, a work written shortly after Beethoven's death, the full extent of whose innovations Mendelssohn was only just discovering. The Arod Quartet continues its album with Four Pieces for Quartet, assembled posthumously and numbered Op. 81 by Mendelssohn's successor at the Gewandhaus, Julius Rietz, and based on four disparate pieces from various eras. Finally, the album closes with the Arod's re-interpretaton of a Lied, sung here by Marianne Crebassa, whose theme takes in several passages from Beethoven note for note, a real homage from the young composer to his illustrious elder. It’s worth noting that the Arod Quartet, only founded in 2013, has shot to global prominence, having performed at the Paris Philharmonic, the Louvre Auditorium, the Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord, the Metz Arsenal, and further afield the Salzburg Mozarteum, the Vienna Konzerthaus, the Amsterdam Concertgebouw, the Zurich Tonhalle, London's Wigmore Hall, as well as in Tokyo, Finland, Switzerland... the list goes on! © SM/Qobuz