Yundi, renowned for his Chopin interpretations, ventures into Mozart’s world with “Mozart – The Sonata Project, Salzburg.” This album, part of his ongoing Sonata Project and tour, offers a fresh perspective on Mozart’s beloved sonatas. 

Yundi’s rendition of K. 331 showcases dignity and elegance, allowing each variation to unfold with grace. While some moments feel complacent, overall, he strikes a commendable balance between animated commentary and sensible voicing. The Menuetto, though clear and thoughtfully phrased, lacks the dynamic range found in other interpretations. 

In the Rondo, Yundi delivers energetic staccatos and rhythmic precision, yet falls slightly short of fully capturing its jubilant spirit. 

Moving to the minor-key works, Yundi’s performance of K. 310 lacks the urgency and drama demanded by the composition, despite his delicate phrasing. Similarly, in K. 457, while his fingering is precise, a weightier sound would better suit its symphonic character. 

Recorded at Salzburg’s Siftung Mozarteum, the album benefits from the hall’s open acoustics, lending Yundi’s playing an airy quality. 

While Yundi’s technical prowess shines throughout, his polished approach sometimes sacrifices the individuality of each sonata. Despite this, the recording offers a pleasing listening experience, though other interpretations may remain preferred choices for some. 

Yundi’s exploration of Mozart’s sonatas may not fully capture the essence of each piece, but his refined execution still warrants appreciation. As he continues his Sonata Project, listeners eagerly anticipate further explorations into the classical repertoire under his adept fingers. 

Véronique Gens’ latest album, “Paysage,” is a captivating journey through the rich tapestry of French vocal music, delicately woven with orchestral arrangements. Released by the esteemed Alpha label, this collection is not just a mere assortment of well-known tunes, but a thoughtful exploration of hidden treasures, thanks to a collaboration with Palazzetto Bru Zane. 

While the absence of familiar pieces like Berlioz’s “Les nuits d’été” or Ravel’s “Shéhérazade” might surprise some listeners, what “Paysage” offers instead is a refreshing dive into the lesser-known works of French composers. Gounod, Saint-Saëns, Chausson, Hahn, and Fauré are all represented here, alongside the often-overlooked Théodore Dubois, whose four songs, including the poignant “Chansons de Marjolie,” reveal a depth of emotion and artistry. 

Véronique Gens’ performance throughout the album is nothing short of spectacular. Her soprano voice, with its supple agility and elegant delivery, effortlessly navigates the intricacies of each song. Her impeccable diction and nuanced phrasing add layers of meaning and emotion to every lyric, drawing listeners into the heart of the music. 

Backing Gens is the Munich Radio Orchestra, conducted by Hervé Niquet, whose sensitive direction breathes life into the orchestral accompaniments. Together, they create a symbiotic relationship, where the lush orchestration enhances Gens’ vocal performance, and vice versa. 

While some may lament the absence of Massenet’s compositions, the album compensates with other gems like “Pastoral” from “Esclarmonde” and “Invocation” from “Les Érinnyes.” Niquet’s careful shaping of the orchestral pieces, such as Fauré’s “Nocturne” and Fernand de La Tombelle’s “Rêverie,” adds depth and texture to the overall listening experience. 

“Paysage” is not just an album; it’s a musical odyssey that invites listeners to explore the hidden corners of French vocal repertoire. With its exceptional performances, thoughtful selection of songs, and meticulous attention to detail, it’s a must-have for anyone with an appreciation for the beauty and elegance of French music.

Miloš Karadaglić, the renowned Montenegrin classical guitarist, has truly outdone himself with his latest album, ‘Baroque.’ It’s an exploration of the Baroque era that transcends mere virtuosity, inviting listeners to ponder the profound question, ‘Sonata, what do you want of me?’ Karadaglić listens intently for an answer and, in turn, communicates it to us with unparalleled clarity, elegance, and emotional depth. 

In ‘Baroque,’ you won’t find the typical fireworks often associated with virtuosic guitar performances. Instead, you’ll discover meticulous craftsmanship and an underlying passion. Take, for example, Michael Lewin’s arrangement of Rameau’s ‘The Arts and the Hours’ from Les Boréades, which harmoniously blends with the brilliance of pianist Víkingur Ólafsson’s works. Miloš’s own transcription of Bach’s Chaconne from the D minor Partita for solo violin is a testament to his extraordinary pacing and ability to convey profound pathos within Bach’s intricate masterpiece. Furthermore, the Adagio from Marcello’s D minor Oboe Concerto showcases Miloš’s remarkable skill in rendering a genuine cantabile line on the guitar—a challenging feat executed with finesse. 

Notably, Miloš collaborates with the exceptional Arcangelo ensemble, under the direction of Jonathan Cohen, in performances of Marcello, Vivaldi, and Boccherini. Period-instrument ensembles joining forces with pianists or classical guitarists can sometimes lead to discord, but here, the chemistry and shared sense of style and balance result in a harmonious musical partnership. It’s a match made in heaven that elevates the album’s overall quality. 

While ‘Baroque’ isn’t a quasi-philosophical chill album, it does prioritize delicacy and gradual unfoldings. The faster movements in the Vivaldi concertos and the fiery Boccherini Fandango still deliver the thrilling excitement one would expect from such pieces, with Miloš’s guitar mastery on full display. However, at its core, ‘Baroque’ is a tribute to tenderness and a heartfelt appreciation for the past. It’s a journey that allows listeners to immerse themselves in the exquisite subtleties and intricate beauty of Baroque music, expertly guided by Miloš Karadaglić’s remarkable talent. 

In ‘Baroque,’ Miloš has not only showcased his virtuosity but has also taken us on a profound musical voyage—a voyage where every note resonates with the grace and elegance of the Baroque era. It’s a testament to his artistry, his dedication to his craft, and his ability to touch the hearts of listeners with the rich tapestry of Baroque music. This album is a must-listen for anyone who appreciates the timeless beauty of classical guitar and the captivating allure of Baroque compositions. 

Andris Nelsons’ “Richard Strauss: Symphonic Works” is a release that both highlights the conductor’s strengths and exposes his limitations when it comes to the core repertoire of Richard Strauss. This ambitious project brings together the Boston Symphony Orchestra (BSO) and the Gewandhausorchester Leipzig, offering a diverse selection of Strauss’s orchestral music. 

One of Nelsons’ notable strengths is his sensitivity to instrumental colors, blends, and balances, which is evident in certain pieces such as the “Four Symphonic Interludes” from Intermezzo and the suites from Der Rosenkavalier and Die Frau ohne Schatten. These selections benefit from Nelsons’ skillful handling of rhythms and textures, resulting in performances with winning transparency. 

The inclusion of Yuja Wang, a brilliant pianist, in Strauss’s Burleske adds another layer of virtuosity to the recording. Wang’s performance is impressive, particularly in the meditative middle section. However, it falls short when compared to other recent interpretations, such as Bertrand Chamayou’s rendition with Antonio Pappano and the Santa Cecilia Orchestra. 

Nelsons’ interpretations of Strauss’s works often suffer when compared to past performances. The Leipzig Don Juan, while clear, lacks the required lustiness and rhythmic edge, making it less engaging. Don Quixote also suffers from a lack of overall cohesion and a self-absorbed quality, despite the admirable solo performances of Yo-Yo Ma and Steven Ansell. 

Other pieces, such as Boston Till Eulenspiegel and Also sprach Zarathustra, are good but not groundbreaking. The Leipzig Ein Heldenleben fares better, with exquisite solos by Gewandhausorchester concertmaster Frank-Michael Erben. However, it still falls short of some distinguished interpretations. 

Sinfonia domestica showcases the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s energy, but other recordings offer more vibrancy. Macbeth and Aus Italien receive intense readings from the Leipzig orchestra, while Leipzig Metamorphosen is solid but not exceptional. 

One of the low points of the recording is the Boston Eine Alpensinfonie, which frequently loses sight of the big picture and gets lost in its own excesses. Festliches Präludium, played by combined orchestral forces, is drawn out excessively and ultimately feels grotesque. 

“Richard Strauss: Symphonic Works” showcases Andris Nelsons’ strengths in handling instrumental colors and balances. However, it also reveals his inconsistency when tackling core repertoire. While some performances shine, others fall short when compared to past interpretations. Hopefully, Nelsons’ approach to Strauss’s music will mature and regain the depth and dramatic tension that seem to be lacking in this release. There’s more substance to Strauss and his music than what is captured here. 

In her latest recording, Beatrice Rana takes on the monumental task of interpreting Chopin’s B-flat minor Piano Sonata and Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata. This intriguing combination showcases Rana’s musical evolution, from her early student days to her recent exploration of Beethoven’s solo works during the lockdown. 

Rana’s rendition of Chopin’s B-flat minor Sonata initially takes a lighter approach compared to some other renowned pianists. While her interpretation may lack the thunderous urgency found in certain performances, her attention to detail and musical nuances gradually reveal the depth of her interpretation. The scherzo movement, although lacking in overt humor, showcases Rana’s ability to bring out the elegance and lyrical beauty embedded within Chopin’s writing. 

The centerpiece of Chopin’s Sonata, the Funeral March, is approached with measured introspection by Rana, allowing for subtle artistic expression amidst the composition’s static phrases. In contrast to more bombastic interpretations, Rana’s rendition captures the essence of deep introspection, offering a refreshing perspective. 

Transitioning to Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata, Rana navigates the intricate passages with finesse, avoiding the pitfalls of harshness and superficiality. While some may find her opening chords lacking in voicing compared to other recordings, Rana compensates with crisp staccatos and a keen sense of musical balance. The Adagio Sostenuto showcases Rana’s ability to create an intimate sound-space, although some listeners may prefer a more weighty interpretation. 

The final movement of the Hammerklavier Sonata highlights Rana’s dynamic shading and impeccable balance, building anticipation for the monumental fugue that follows. While her rendition may not be the most electrifying, Rana succeeds in highlighting the intricate details of the music, offering listeners a musically insightful experience. 

Overall, Beatrice Rana’s interpretation of these iconic piano sonatas is a nuanced exploration that reveals hidden depths within the music. While her performances may not be the most dramatic, they offer a thoughtful and introspective journey that will resonate with those seeking a deeper understanding of these timeless masterpieces. 

This double album from Harmonia Mundi showcases Schumann’s complete String Quartets, Op. 41, and his Piano Quintet, both composed in 1842. Listeners might naturally compare these performances to the renowned Zehetmair Quartet recordings, which profoundly influenced our perception of the first and third quartets. 

Quatuor Hanson presents a more refined sound in their renditions. While their interpretation of the first quartet lacks some of the eerie quality found in the Zehetmair’s version, the overall excellence and dedicated performance of Quatuor Hanson more than make up for it. Their versions are imbued with a gentle Romantic warmth, accentuated by well-timed vibrato. They adeptly manage tempos and achieve exceptional instrumental balance, thanks to a close, clear recording that avoids being overly sterile. 

For the Piano Quintet, Adam Laloum collaborates with Quatuor Hanson. Many renditions of this piece treat it almost like a piano concerto with string quartet accompaniment. However, Laloum’s approach is different; he emphasizes a true chamber music experience, blending the piano seamlessly with the quartet. His interpretation aligns more with Pires than Argerich, drawing a parallel to these other distinguished pianists known for their nuanced performances. 

Interestingly, the balance achieved here is reminiscent of period-instrument recordings, such as those by the Michelangeli Quintet, who employ a fortepiano (though the specific instrument Laloum uses is not detailed in the album booklet). Once listeners acclimate to this style, the uniformity of balance and the cohesive, thoughtful interpretation across all performers become apparent. 

As seen in Quatuor Hanson’s previous Haydn project, not every listener may agree with all interpretative choices. Nonetheless, the results are invariably captivating and merit multiple listens. 

Entering the world of Gabriel Fauré’s Nocturnes and Barcarolles through Marc-André Hamelin’s latest release for Hyperion is akin to stepping into a dreamy sonic realm where emotions and melodies intermingle effortlessly. With Fauré’s compositions spanning the transitional period from post-Romanticism to early modernism, Hamelin offers a profound exploration of these musical treasures. 

The collection of 13 Nocturnes serves as a testament to Fauré’s extraordinary ability to encapsulate profound emotions within concise musical forms. In contrast to the delicate nuances often associated with Chopin’s Nocturnes, Fauré’s creations can be emotionally gripping and raw, as exemplified in the haunting E-flat minor Nocturne (track 1). Hamelin’s interpretation, with its carefully crafted descending lines, seamlessly guides the listener from gentle poignancy to the depths of melancholic despair. 

Fauré’s Nocturnes are characterized by their weightiness, achieved through the generous use of the bass register. This unique feature, when combined with the bel canto melodies, as heard in Op. 33 No. 3 (track 3), creates a dreamy and nostalgic atmosphere reminiscent of Chopin. However, it is the interplay between the melody’s yearning for the horizon and the persistent pull of the resolute bassline that adds depth and complexity to these compositions. 

The richness of Fauré’s Nocturnes owes much to his intricate contrapuntal textures, and Hamelin skillfully highlights these intricate layers in his performance, particularly in Op. 84 No. 8 (track 8). Here, the melody weaves through the lower, middle, and upper voices, conjuring a Lisztian three-handed effect. Hamelin’s transitions between these voices are seamless, revealing a kaleidoscope of emotions ranging from sweeping and rhapsodic to mellow and sparkling. 

Turning to the Barcarolles, composed over several decades from 1882 to 1921, we find a collection of 13 distinct interpretations of the gondoliers’ song, unified by the gentle swaying rhythm akin to a boat gliding on tranquil waters. Although the Barcarolles may lack the emotional intensity of the Nocturnes, they possess their own unique charm and beauty, each presenting a vibrant and multifaceted perspective. 

Fauré’s composition arc within the Barcarolles is a fascinating journey. Starting with the serene A minor (No. 1) and the lyrical G major (No. 2), the listener is gently guided through calm waters. However, as the collection progresses, the intensity builds. The D minor (No. 7) oozes tension and anguish, while the major-key No. 8 takes an impassioned and rhapsodic turn. The final Barcarolles, while calm, are not without their moments of high drama. The closing C major piece leaves us pondering Fauré’s daring use of angular and even jarring intervals. 

Among the Barcarolles, No. 10 in A minor (track 23) stands as a personal favorite. It exemplifies Fauré’s mastery in using harmony to create stark contrasts and alluring mystery. The opening melody oscillates between somber and sinister, navigating a world of shifting consonance and dissonance. The recapitulation in the final section is a complex journey through turbulent chromaticism, yet Hamelin’s left-hand theme emerges as a reassuring voice of reason amidst the storm. 

Marc-André Hamelin delivers an exceptional performance, allowing Fauré’s music to come to life in all its glory. His interpretations are characterized by their contemplative nature and a deliberate avoidance of haste, yet they maintain a thread of drama and excitement. The sound engineering, meticulously attuned to Hamelin’s musical sensibilities, elevates an already splendid presentation. This album invites repeated listening, promising fresh revelations with each return to Fauré’s enchanting compositions. Marc-André Hamelin’s masterful rendition reaffirms the enduring allure of classical music’s timeless gems. 

Paavo Järvi’s enduring fascination with Anton Bruckner is no secret, and his latest venture with the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich presents a new perspective on Symphony No. 8. This recording follows closely on the heels of their rendition of the seventh symphony, inviting listeners to explore Järvi’s evolving interpretation of Bruckner’s monumental works. Having previously embarked on a comprehensive Bruckner cycle with the Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra, one cannot help but wonder if the ten-year gap between recordings has ushered in significant changes in Järvi’s approach. 

One of the most noticeable alterations lies in tempo, as each movement of this rendition unfolds at a slower pace, adding approximately five minutes to the overall playing time. While the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich, a notably fine ensemble, may not possess the same sonic grandeur as orchestras in Amsterdam, Berlin, or Vienna that are synonymous with Bruckner, they bring their own unique qualities to the performance. Järvi’s previous Frankfurt recording exudes greater weight and tonal splendor, making it a standout in his discography. However, the Tonhalle-Orchester’s distinctive qualities, such as their sweetly lyrical string playing and characterful winds, provide a refreshing perspective on Bruckner’s work, allowing for different interpretive possibilities. 

Paavo Järvi’s recordings are synonymous with technical polish, balanced textures, and a nuanced interplay of light and shade, and this rendition is no exception. Yet, a noticeable shift in approach is evident. In Frankfurt, Järvi was direct and unpretentious, trusting in the music’s inherent power. In contrast, his more recent interpretation adopts a more willful profile, occasionally resulting in exaggerations that may not resonate with all listeners. 

One instance of this interpretive shift occurs in the first movement, where Järvi intentionally slows the tempo (beginning at 5’20”), creating a sense of stasis that might remind some of Mahler’s sixth symphony. While there may be an attempt to draw a connection between the two composers, it appears somewhat forced in the context of Bruckner’s composition. This moment disrupts the natural pulse and compromises the structural integrity of the piece. A few minutes later (at 8’48”), Järvi takes liberties with the brass lines as they approach their climax, lacking the subtlety found in the Frankfurt recording. Instead of building inexorably toward its peak, the music is hindered in its intended journey. While the final climax (at 14’16”) boasts a menacing ferocity, the trumpet fanfares that follow seem like an afterthought, diluting the emotional weight of the passage. 

Paavo Järvi’s return to Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8 with the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich showcases an artist in transition. While this recording offers its own distinct qualities and perspectives, the interpretive choices may not align with every listener’s expectations. Järvi’s previous Frankfurt recording, with its directness and unpretentiousness, remains a benchmark for many Bruckner enthusiasts. Nonetheless, this rendition provides an intriguing glimpse into the evolving artistic journey of a conductor who continually seeks new avenues of expression within the vast world of classical music. 

Handel’s opera, “Alcina,” finds a fresh and compelling interpretation in the latest release by Pentatone, featuring the exceptional talents of Les Musiciens du Louvre under the direction of conductor Marc Minkowski. While there are few recordings of this Tempest-like masterpiece, this rendition stands out not only for its dramatic flair but, most notably, for the tour de force performance by mezzo-soprano Magdalena Kožená in the titular role. 

Kožená’s portrayal of Alcina is nothing short of mesmerizing. Her ability to infuse every sung word with emotional depth while maintaining the integrity of Handel’s intricate musical structure is commendable. The mezzo-soprano’s exceptional low notes add an extra layer of richness to her delivery, creating a truly captivating listening experience. Particularly noteworthy are her riveting performances in the pivotal Act 2 scenes of rejection, vengeance, and despair, where Kožená’s artistry shines brilliantly. 

The supporting cast complements Kožená’s brilliance with top-notch performances. Erin Morley brings a crystalline soprano to the role of Morgana, Alcina’s flightier sister, while Elizabeth DeShong’s expressive vocals as Bradamante add depth to the ensemble. Anna Bonitatibus impresses with her dark and agile voice, perfectly capturing Ruggiero’s impetuosity. Minkowski’s direction encourages each performer to lavishly decorate the repeats in their arias, and the entire ensemble rises to the challenge with flair and precision. 

Les Musiciens du Louvre, under the masterful guidance of Marc Minkowski, delivers a spellbinding rendition of Handel’s “Alcina,” with Magdalena Kožená’s stellar performance at its heart. Despite the shortcomings in the CD release, the musical excellence and emotional resonance of this recording make it a standout addition to the catalog of Handel’s operatic masterpieces. 

Christian Măcelaru and the WDR Sinfonieorchester, in their latest album featuring Brahms’ Piano Concertos with pianist Simon Trpčeski, take a distinctive turn from their previous endeavors. However, this rendition invites comparisons with notable performances by other maestros, creating an interesting discourse on interpretation and execution. 

The journey begins with the D minor concerto, and while the orchestral layering is evident, Măcelaru’s approach feels light-handed, lacking the requisite Maestoso character. The timpani, crucial for establishing mood, disappointingly takes a backseat, only making a significant impact in the finale’s closing bars. Trpčeski’s entrance doesn’t elevate the performance, and over-pedaling leads to an atmospheric, rather than heady, ambiance. The frustration peaks in moments like 10’39”, where the octaves lack the necessary momentum. The Adagio’s pacing is reasonable, yet the spirit falls short, missing the profundity and expansiveness demanded by Brahms’ transcendent melodies. Trpčeski maintains a gentle approach, offering introspection but still falling short of more emotionally charged renditions. 

The Finale emerges as the strongest segment, with Trpčeski’s clarity and space in staccato notes delivering pristine passagework. However, the delayed gratification of the needed drive in the jubilant D major section raises questions about the conductor’s intent. 

The B-flat major concerto shows promise, marked by a well-enunciated French horn solo and increased vigor. The noble orchestral interlude and Trpčeski’s empathic chords demonstrate the energy lacking in the D minor concerto. However, inconsistencies persist, with the second movement reverting to old habits, demanding more insistence from the soloist. The cello solo in the slow movement shines, exhibiting beautiful vibrato and expressive shifts in color. Trpčeski’s responsiveness to tonal movement is effective, though some additional playfulness could enhance the listening experience in certain moments. 

In summary, the album leaves a mixed impression. While the B-flat major concerto showcases the performers’ capabilities, the inconsistencies and shortcomings in the D minor concerto prevent it from standing out among preferred listening points. This release, though competent, may not alter existing recommendations for top choices in Brahms’ Piano Concertos.