Music and Recording Reviews

Mozart: Symphonies 29 & 33, Clarinet Concerto
Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin, Bernhard Forck, concertmaster; Ernst Schlader, bass clarinet
Pentatone PTC5187208 (auditioned as 24/96 FLAC). 2024. Michael Havenstein, prod., Teldex Studio, Berlin, eng.
Performance ****½
Sonics ****½

If you turn to this recording for Mozart's beloved Clarinet Concerto in A Major, K.622, you will likely end up happy. On that work, the Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin, long fabled for bringing out the unique colors of music with period instruments, turns the spotlight on its star clarinetist, Ernst Schlader, and the bass (basset) clarinet for which Mozart composed what was destined to become his last concerto and instrumental work. The sound and musicianship are marvelous. The low notes initially expunged from the published score are restored. It's for these restored notes and the unique timbre of the bass clarinet—the marvelous round, mellow sound at the instrument's core—that many music lovers will take to this recording as a cat does to catnip.

Don't shoot me for saying it, but I've never been enamored of Mozart symphonies. Experiencing the A Major Symphony No.29, K.201 gifted with the lighter weight and heightened colors of period instruments has impelled me to revisit my stance. The "Andante," which, like the rest of the symphony, was composed in Mozart's 18th year, is filled with grace and light. Its third movement minuet is almost as delightful as the Andante, and the Finale is the epitome of "Allegro con spirito."

Jump ahead five years, to the Symphony No.33 in B-flat major, K.319: The thematic unity of its movements stands out. The symphony's opening melodies presage the arias and scenes that would later flow from Mozart's pen, in, eg, Le nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni; in the symphony, perhaps for the first time in Mozart, it is easy to imagine a musical conversation among two or more characters. This performance will remind you how instrumental and vocal music united as one in Mozart's brain.—Jason Victor Serinus

Bruckner, Bates: Symphony No.7; Resurrexit
Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra/Manfred Honeck
Reference Recordings FR-757 (auditioned as 24/96 WAV). 2024. Dirk Sobotka, prod.; John Newton, eng.
Performance *****
Sonics *****

The beautiful, accessible Seventh is hard to get exactly right. My survey of it in these pages long ago offered three solid, somewhat anodyne recommendations; what I've heard since hasn't impressed me further. Honeck's may finally solve the conundrum.

Generally, Brucknerians manage either warmth or clarity. Honeck gives us both. The aspiring cello-and-viola line has a clean, singing tone, its long lines spaciously shaped; the buildup is steady and full. The second theme pulses, lightly. The development's quiet opening builds anticipation; within its painstaking, methodical unfolding, the midrange string chorales are intensely felt.

At the Adagio's start, the contrast between the rich, somber Wagner tubas and the taut, incisive upper-string attack is stark. The broad theme holds attention as faster elements intrude; the second, dance-like group has a nice lift. Honeck never seems to strain at metaphysics, yet he finds it just the same, conveying the hieratic effect through purely musical, secular means.

Not everything's ideal. After stepping up the pace for the first movement's alla breve, Honeck slams on the brakes at the recap. Sectional ritards in the first two movements are rather too careful. In the steady, weighted Scherzo, some of the counterpoints lag, and the warm-toned Trio practically oozes. In both the Adagio and the Finale, the resplendent trumpets cause a sort of buzzy (not unpleasant) congestion.

Then again, basses are resonant yet tapered; upper strings, clear and vibrant. Woodwind soli fully justify the attention, and firm, full-bodied brasses really "make" the climaxes, though without, perhaps, the expected organlike richness. Mason Bates's Resurrexit, with its sparkling, whirling winds and beautiful lyric breadth, is a worthy complement.—Stephen Francis Vasta

Richard Rodgers & Oscar Hammerstein II: Carousel
Soloists and chorus, Sinfonia of London, John Wilson, cond.
Chandos CHSA 5342(2) (auditioned as 24/96 WAV). 2024. Jonathan Allen, prod., eng.
Performance *****
Sonics ****

What a joy to have a recording of every note of music Richard Rodgers wrote for Carousel, his 1945 hit musical with Oscar Hammerstein II. Not even the great John Raitt (Bonnie's father), who created the role of Billy in the Broadway premiere, recorded the whole history-making "Soliloquy." Nor, in this prime example of adapting the operatic scena idiom for the Broadway stage, did Raitt surpass in eloquence this recording's marvelous high baritone, Nathaniel Hackmann. (Who made the more convincing Billy onstage is another matter.)

Hackmann isn't music director John Wilson's only casting coup. Mikaela Bennett possesses ideal freshness and innocence for Julie Jordan; Carrie Pipperidge, whose mezzo is thankfully free of vibrato-laden blowsiness, sings "You'll Never Walk Alone" without turning it into sop; Julian Ovenden summons the perfect amount of prissiness for the uptight Enoch Snow; and the other leads are equally ideal. A complete libretto comes with the recording, but the performers' diction is so clear and unforced that you'll never have to consult it.

I'm not equipped to evaluate this 24/96-native recording in either discrete multichannel or Atmos, but the two-channel files do capture the theatrically authentic, minimally resonant acoustic of the Susie Sainsbury Theatre, Royal Academy of Music, London. I am equipped to marvel at Wilson's ability to honor the feelings and emotions in the score and libretto without drowning them in sentimentality. Instead of moaning, I found myself near tears at Billy's love for his daughter and wife.

The story, based on Ferenc Molnar's play "Liliom," is no more far-fetched than The Wizard of Oz. It just requires the right hand, which the marvelous Wilson has provided.—Jason Victor Serinus

Sibelius, Prokofiev: Violin Concerto; Violin Concerto 1
Janine Jansen, violin; Oslo Philharmonic/Klaus Mäkelä
Decca 485 4748 (CD). Jørn Pedersen, prod.; Arne Akselberg, eng.
Performance *****
Sonics *****

The Sibelius immediately registers as something special. Janine Jansen's entry in the quietly rustling opening is uniquely delicate and restrained. As the music expands, her intensely dusky sound on the G string makes a startling contrast with her luminous higher range, a color change she turns to advantage in the cadenza's back-and-forth overlaps. Her fervent, prayerful entry in the Adagio is particularly striking; so is her fierce, thrusting vitality in the driving finale. And the tone is lovely, mostly vibrant and focused, the legato faltering only slightly in some of the pianos and the octave crossings.

The Prokofiev, too, begins with a tremolo, but here it conveys stillness rather than unease. Jansen is lyrical and exploratory. Later in the movement, that stark timbral contrast between registers enhances the more trenchant passages. She intones the scurrying phrases of the perky central Scherzo as if she has all the time in the world and rises to the buildup, at once ominous and boisterous, as the movement proceeds. Jansen's calmly vibrant high trills settle the movement as it finally emerges into daylight.

As the foregoing descriptions suggest, Klaus Mäkelä offers more consistent control than he does in the recent Stravinsky/Debussy program. He has a knack for eliciting the quiet ostinatos Sibelius buries under the tremolos, and he draws out a strong horn and bassoon presence. In the Prokofiev, the first movement's 6/8 buoyancy is unusually pronounced. The tuttis of both scores, some quite ominous, are firmly controlled and shaped. The opening of Prokofiev's finale could have been softer and more mysterious; still, this is first-rate conducting by any measure.

Decca's almost-analog sonics are also first-rate, deep and present.—Stephen Francis Vasta