Humour me for a moment, okay? You decide, for whatever reason, that you want to purchase a recording of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. You find the only record store in existence, and you start perusing the selection. The Four Seasons is one of the most frequently recorded pieces in the classical repertoire, so there are lots of options to choose from. Which one do you go for? Put another way, why do you choose one particular recording over another? I can’t speak for everyone, but I’d look for one of two things: First, I’d be drawn to a recording made by a soloist, orchestra, or conductor I’m familiar with. For example, Joshua Bell made one with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields. I haven’t heard it, but I’m kind of curious to based on my knowledge of those involved. Second, I’d seek out a somewhat out-of-the-ordinary recording: one based on historically informed performance practice, or one with some other distinguishing characteristic. This recording, made in the earlier days of the Naxos recording label, is neither of these. It’s perfectly fine, maybe even good, but there’s nothing remarkable about it, and in my opinion, when it comes to this piece, ‘good enough’ is simply not good enough. The soloist, Takako Nishizaki, is perfectly competent, but doesn’t do anything surprising. The orchestra and conductor, Capella Istropolitana and Stephen Gunzenhauser, do a fine job, but again, there’s nothing that makes their performance distinctive. This is a perfectly acceptable, middle-of-the-road interpretation of some extremely familiar music. If that’s what you’re looking for, this will work, but if you want something more than that, you’ll want to look elsewhere. I have a total of four recordings of The Four Seasons—five, if you count Max Richter’s ‘recomposed’ version—and this is probably my least favourite, not because it’s bad, but because it’s so generic. I’ll say it again: This is a fine recording, but I prefer my Vivaldi with a little more personality than what we get here.
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One of my goals for 2024 is to listen to at least one CD from my collection every week, ideally a CD I haven’t listened to, and write a brief review of it. For starters, I’m continuing my survey of the Naxos 30th Anniversary box set. Thomas Tallis’s Spem in alium is, quite simply, an astonishing piece of music. It’s written for eight choirs of five voices (soprano, alto, tenor, baritone, and bass), and each part is completely distinct from the others. Yes, that adds up to 40 independent voices—a truly massive amount of music, and a remarkable undertaking for any group of singers. But scope isn’t everything, of course; thankfully, it is also—not surpring for Tallis—incredibly beautiful. This recording, by the Oxford Camerata and Jeremy Summerly, captures both the magnitude and splendour of this music with impeccable artistry and terrific sound. While I haven’t done a side-by-side comparison with other recordings, I can’t imagine this music sounding much better. This recording was released in 2005 to celebrate the 500th anniversary of Tallis’s birth, and it would seem that the goal was to present some of the composer’s largest works. Spem in alium is paired with Salve intemerata—at over twenty minutes, one the longest single-movement pieces of the sixteenth century. This is followed by Missa Salve intemerata and three English-language anthems. All in all, it’s a wonderful programme, and the sound throughout is nothing less than spectacular. Here’s my one note of caution, however: In my experience, many people tend to think of ‘classical music’ as ‘background music’, and due to its undeniable beauty, this recording may seem like an ideal candidate for multitasking. Please, please, please do not make this mistake. Not only is this music that deserves your undivided attention, I believe it demands it, particularly Spem in alium. If you are only half-listening, Spem in alium can end up sounding impossibly dense and indistinct, something akin to Renaissance note salad. Instead, use good speakers or high-quality headphones, and turn it up loud so you can hear the fine details. Then, let the music wash over you. One of my goals for 2024 is to listen to at least one CD from my collection every week, ideally a CD I haven’t listened to, and write a brief review of it. For starters, I’m continuing my survey of the Naxos 30th Anniversary box set. When many people think about American ‘classical’ music, they think of the music of Aaron Copland. And no wonder. While Copland isn’t the first composer who tried to capture the sound of America in his music, something about his approach sounds immediately and unmistakably right. His string writing sounds like wind blowing across the open prairies. His melodies evoke the something of the Old West, but (in my opinion) never to the point of being saccharine. Even when he wrote in a less popular idiom, such as in his brilliant Piano Variations, his pointillistic ‘thriftiness’ (his term) sounds jazzy and exciting in his angularity. For the record, I adore Copland’s music, and while some may write him off as being too ‘popular’, I deeply respect his ability to write in more than one idiom, to keep his voice intact while straddling different styles. Simply stated, I try to do the same in my music. This selection of Copland’s music all falls under the dance umbrella. Rodeo, a ballet that is better known as a series of dance episodes, is heard in its entirety, and it’s delightful. Dance Panels is more abstract in character, but unmistakably Copland, and it has its fair share of surprises. In my opinion, it’s a piece that deserves to be better known. El Salón México and Danzón Cubano are both a lot of fun, full of rhythmic energy and verve. In terms of the repertoire, there isn’t a weak link to be found. Leonard Slatkin is the ideal interpreter for this music. I find Slatkin to be an incredibly energetic conductor (his recording of Carmina Burana is wonderfully unhinged), sometimes to the point of excess, but that’s exactly what this music needs. The Detroit Symphony Orchestra sounds terrific. Highly recommended. |
AuthorChris Massa is a US-born musician based in Durham, England. You are on his site right now. Archives
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