Herbert Schuch’s latest release, “BERLIN 1923,” revisits Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto, coupled with Erwin Schulhoff’s 1923 Piano Concerto, presenting a compelling blend of classical mastery and historical significance. A decade after his previous recording of Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto, Schuch returns with a fresh perspective and a captivating performance. 

In his earlier recording, Schuch faced criticism for lacking warmth and missing an opportunity to showcase Viktor Ullmann’s cadenza for Beethoven’s concerto. However, this time around, Schuch not only addresses this concern by including Schulhoff’s cadenza for the Beethoven concerto but also delivers a delightful and nuanced interpretation of the entire work. 

Schuch’s Beethoven is a revelation, demonstrating a sparkling narrative flair akin to a seasoned storyteller. His phrasing is vibrant and engaging, from the crystalline articulation of florid passages to the sculpting of melodies that captivate the listener. The slow movement is a highlight, with Schuch’s editorial choice to create a slow diminuendo in the ascending trill adding a ravishing touch. In the finale, moments like the stentorian bass line followed by sweetly confidential lyricism showcase Schuch’s interpretative depth. 

Conductor Tung-Chieh Chuang proves to be an excellent Beethovenian, leading the WDR Symphony Orchestra with characterful and highly sensitive playing. The first movement’s dramatic shift from G major to E flat is masterfully executed, highlighting Chuang’s skill in navigating Beethoven’s complex compositions. 

Erwin Schulhoff’s 1923 Piano Concerto, a composition by a fellow pianist and composer killed by the Nazis, is brilliantly interpreted by Schuch. Balancing Impressionist and Expressionist elements, Schuch captures the essence of Schulhoff’s work, leaning towards Scriabin-like ecstasy in certain passages. The Allegro alla jazz movement, with its lively percussion, is particularly noteworthy for Schuch’s buoyant and frothy playing, conveying the humor in the music without overemphasis. 

While other recordings may offer more vibrant colors or stunning clarity of detail, Schuch and Chuang’s poetically intelligent interpretation of Schulhoff’s concerto is equally endearing. “BERLIN 1923” stands as a testament to Schuch’s growth as an artist and his commitment to exploring the historical and artistic dimensions of these piano concertos. 

“Letter(s) to Erik Satie” offers a compelling exploration of the intertwined worlds of Erik Satie and John Cage, skillfully interpreted by the talented French pianist, Bertrand Chamayou. This dual celebratory recording reveals a nuanced perspective on the iconic figures of experimentalism, showcasing the depth of Chamayou’s connection to their unique musical realms. 

Chamayou’s journey into Satie’s repertoire began with an initial fascination with the composer’s trademark haunting softness. However, it was Cage’s later artistic identification with Satie that truly ignited the pianist’s interest, leading to this thoughtful compilation of solo works. The inclusion of Satie’s well-known pieces, such as the Trois Gymnopédies and Gnossiennes 1-7, is complemented by the deliberate scattering of these classics among lesser-known Satie miniatures. The entire collection is framed by Cage’s compositions, often created as a direct homage to Satie, creating a symbiotic relationship between the two composers. 

The opening track, “All Sides of the Small Stone, for Erik Satie and (Secretly Given to Jim Tenney as a Koan),” attributed to Cage, serves as a compelling starting point. Its discovery inside a score by James Tenney, a Cage mentoree, adds a layer of intrigue to the recording. Tenney’s own composition, “3 Pages in the Shape of a Pear (in celebration of Erik Satie),” makes a fleeting yet significant appearance, bridging the connection between the two composers. 

The meticulous selection and arrangement of pieces showcase Chamayou’s sensitivity as a pianist, allowing the listener to experience Satie and Cage through his distinctive, brilliant lens. Satie’s piano cycle, “Sports et Divertissements,” is masterfully performed, with elegant nuance and occasional dramatic splashes. The natural resonance in the recording enhances the familiarity of Satie’s works, while the Cage pieces, particularly “A Room,” “Swinging,” and “In a Landscape,” are imbued with an otherworldly intensity through a reverberating halo. 

In “Letter(s) to Erik Satie,” Bertrand Chamayou achieves a delicate balance, presenting both the well-known and the obscure with equal devotion. His exploration of the interplay between Satie and Cage provides a fresh perspective on their legacies, making this recording a captivating journey for listeners interested in the evolving landscape of experimental music.

In their latest release on Harmonia Mundi, cellist Bruno Philippe and pianist Tanguy de Williencourt, accompanied by the HR Sinfonieorchester under the baton of Christoph Eschenbach, present a diverse program featuring works by Fauré, Franck, Poulenc, and Saint-Saëns. While the recording showcases Philippe’s undeniable technical prowess and sensitivity, certain interpretative choices and ensemble issues detract from an otherwise enjoyable listening experience.

The album opens with Fauré’s Romance Op. 69, where Philippe’s warm and expressive tone immediately captures the listener’s attention. His interpretation of Poulenc’s Cello Sonata is a highlight, demonstrating a nuanced understanding of the surrealist elements within the work. The collaboration between Philippe and de Williencourt is particularly noteworthy in navigating the shifts between lyrical suavity and demotic perkiness in this composition.

However, the recording has its share of less-than-ideal moments, notably in Fauré’s Papillon, where scratchiness pervades, though it is acknowledged that this may be an inherent challenge in the composition itself. The Franck Violin Sonata, transcribed for cello and piano by Jules Delsart, raises concerns about interpretative choices, specifically the use of rubato in the piano’s introductory bars. This departure from established tempo conventions seems unnecessary and detracts from the harmonic interest intended by the composer. Furthermore, the marked poco animato in the final moments of the Franck Sonata is criticized as excessive, diminishing the movement’s intended grandeur.

The Saint-Saëns Cello Concerto No. 1 is marred by issues of tempo consistency, particularly in the interpretation of the second theme, which should maintain the established tempo. Additionally, balance problems arise, with the first violins’ high triplets often being drowned out by the woodwind section.

Despite these shortcomings, there is no denying Philippe’s technical proficiency and the moments of brilliance scattered throughout the recording. The Poulenc Cello Sonata stands out as a particularly successful interpretation, showcasing the duo’s ability to navigate the intricate interplay between the cello and piano.

In conclusion, this album offers a mixed bag of French delights. While certain interpretative choices and ensemble issues may leave listeners wanting, Bruno Philippe’s undeniable talent and moments of interpretative brilliance make this recording a worthwhile addition to any classical music collection.

Alexandre Tharaud’s latest recording of Ravel’s Piano Concertos marks a delightful return to the composer’s works, completing a journey that began 20 years ago. In this album, Tharaud joins the ranks of esteemed pianists who have tackled Ravel’s concertos, including Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, Jean-Yves Thibaudet, and Louis Lortie, and delivers a performance that reflects his signature suavity and versatility.

Tharaud’s discography showcases his diverse artistry, ranging from Schubert Impromptus to French songs and curated collections of French Baroque and cinema music. His playing consistently exudes a refined elegance that seamlessly fits the spirited and universally cherished G major concerto featured on this recording.

The opening piece, the G major concerto, exudes an exhilarating sense of “off to the races” with a tempo that is notably brisk, nearly 40 seconds shorter than the Zimerman/Boulez rendition. This sprightly pace complements the work’s inherent high energy. Notably, the fearless and impeccably articulated trumpet solo deserves commendation. Tharaud’s stylish interpretation is evident in moments like 0’41”, where he imparts meaningful nuances, even if his approach lacks the bold swing that Thibaudet brings to his phrases in his performance with Charles Dutoit/Montréal. Tharaud’s piano performance introduces rhythmic accents that are both quirky and engaging, serving as rhythmic pushes in contrast to the slinky, jazzy orchestral sections. The high-octane moments are truly exciting, with a fitting mix of boldness and bite, although some of Tharaud’s accent placements might strike the listener as unconventional.

The second movement opens with a lengthy piano solo, which presents considerable challenges for the pianist. Ravel provides limited textural elements, leaving the performer to rely on phrasing, dynamics, and artistry to create a deeply moving experience. Tharaud expertly shapes the melodies, yet some of the smaller rhythmic subtleties feel slightly unnatural and out of sync with the music. Personal preferences may lean towards Zimerman’s rendition, which is simple, elegant, and smooth, and is distinguished by his exquisite tone quality, resulting in a deeply personal interpretation. The return of the theme at 6’15” featuring the English horn is a highlight, characterized by the wind player’s expressive use of vibrato. Tharaud’s skillful accompaniment allows for seamless alignment with the melodic ebbs and flows, showcasing his impressive collaborative abilities.

“Ravel’s Piano Concertos” is a compelling addition to the repertoire.  Tharaud’s interpretation brings a unique suavity to the pieces, and while there are moments where his choices may seem unconventional, they add a distinct charm to the performance.  Tharaud’s journey through Ravel’s works has certainly come full circle, and his contribution to the world of classical music remains noteworthy.

Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Well-Tempered Clavier” stands as a timeless cornerstone of the keyboard repertoire, celebrated by musicians, students, and audiences for generations. Daniel Martyn Lewis fearlessly embarks on a journey through Book II of this masterpiece, breathing new life into these iconic compositions with his modern piano interpretation.

Often referred to simply as “the 48,” Bach’s magnum opus comprises preludes and fugues for each major and minor key. Its purpose was not only to showcase Bach’s compositional brilliance but also to demonstrate the possibilities of the equal temperament tuning system, dividing the octave into 12 equal half-steps.

While selections from “the 48” have found their way into piano exam repertoire, these pieces demand intellectual and technical rigor, as well as artistic prowess. Furthermore, the weight of history and numerous interpretations can make approaching this music a formidable challenge. Purists advocate for period instruments and historical performance practice, while others adhere to strict guidelines on how to interpret this music “correctly.”

However, Lewis boldly enters this realm with the understanding that there is no singular “right way” to play any piece of music. Bach’s compositions, while intricate and finely crafted, offer performers the latitude to infuse their own interpretations. It is within this space that Lewis shines, adding a fresh perspective to this timeless music.

In his rendition of Bach’s “Well-Tempered Clavier,” Daniel Martyn Lewis demonstrates a profound understanding of the music’s intricacies and an unerring commitment to its emotional depth. Played on a modern piano, his approach yields a rich, resonant, and transparent tone that provides a sonorous gravitas to the opening notes of the Prelude in C Major. Lewis expertly unravels the contrapuntal textures, a skill honed through his studies with harpsichordist David Ponsford.

Notably, Lewis’s connection with the minor-key Preludes and Fugues is where he truly shines. He demonstrates a keen sensitivity to these pieces, shaping their lines and attending to their inner voices with great care. This is not the dry, mathematical interpretation of Bach, nor is it overly romantic. Instead, Lewis strikes a harmonious balance, infusing each composition with a wide range of emotions, styles, and drama.

Throughout this recording, listeners are treated to an impressive variety of moods and expressions, showcasing Bach’s genius and Lewis’s deep affection for this music. It is evident that Lewis has a profound appreciation for the emotional impact of these compositions, and his interpretation is a testament to the beauty and timelessness of Bach’s “Well-Tempered Clavier.”

Daniel Martyn Lewis’s rendition of Bach’s “Well-Tempered Clavier Book II” is a refreshing and thought-provoking take on a musical masterpiece. His skillful playing on a modern piano offers a new perspective while maintaining the essence of Bach’s genius. This album is a testament to the enduring power and versatility of Bach’s music and serves as an invitation for listeners to rediscover this beloved work with fresh ears.

Weinberg’s string quartets are a treasure trove of emotion, history, and artistic expression, and in the third volume of their ongoing Weinberg cycle, the Arcadia Quartet continues to unlock the composer’s world with captivating performances of his Fourth and 16th quartets. Their renditions, marked by a deep understanding of the music and unwavering commitment, serve as a poignant tribute to this underrated genius of 20th-century classical music.

The journey begins with Weinberg’s Fourth Quartet, composed in 1945. It opens with a seemingly gentle and pastoral melody, inviting the listener into a tranquil landscape. However, Weinberg’s distinctive style soon introduces darker shades, reflecting the turmoil of the era. The second movement exudes a Bartókian fervor, with aggressive passagework that challenges the ensemble’s technical prowess. The mournful Largo marciale that follows is a heart-wrenching testament to war’s scars. The Arcadia Quartet navigates these shifts in mood with remarkable skill, effortlessly transitioning from serene to tumultuous.

The 16th Quartet, dating from 1981, is a more emotionally elusive work. Dedicated to the memory of the composer’s sister, who perished during the German occupation of Poland, this piece carries a weight of profound personal loss. The Quartet captures the ethereal qualities of the music, with Bartók’s influence evident in the spectral repeated fourths of the captivating scherzo. The outer movements also reveal a strong influence of Jewish-inflected folk music, offering a multifaceted listening experience.

Arcadia Quartet’s performances in this recording are nothing short of exceptional. Their deep commitment to Weinberg’s music shines through in every note. The ensemble’s interpretive choices, rich in contrasting timbres, articulations, and dynamics, demonstrate a clear vision of the direction of each movement. This allows the listener to fully engage with the music, even during the more introverted passages.

Furthermore, the recorded sound quality is a true asset to the release. It offers clarity and focus, allowing the listener to appreciate the nuances of the performance and the intricate details within Weinberg’s compositions.

The Arcadia Quartet’s third volume of Weinberg’s string quartets is a profound journey through the composer’s work. These talented musicians breathe life into Weinberg’s emotionally charged music, offering a heartfelt tribute to his legacy. Whether you are already a fan of Weinberg’s music or new to his compositions, this recording is a must-listen. It captures the essence of a composer whose music is often overlooked but richly deserving of recognition and appreciation.