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2, in I), S. 1028; No. 3, in G minor, S. 1029. Catharina Meints, viola da gamba; Doris Ornstein, harpsichord. [Roy Christensen, prod.] GASPARO GS 212, $7.98 (Gas-paro Co., P.O. Box 90574, Nashville, Tenn. 37209). János Starker, cello; Zuzana R8iicková, harpsichord. [ Milan Slavicky, prod.] SUPRAPIION 1111 2485, $8.98. COMPARISON: Harnoncourt, Tachezi Tel. 26.35350 The performances of Bach's gamba sonatas by Nikolaus Harnoncourt and Herbert Tachezi recorded nearly ten years ago remain the standard by which others must be judged. (Originally issued on a single disc, they are now available only in a two-disc set with the Musical Offering-HF, May 1978). I've not heard the Jordi Savall/Ton Koopman versions issued in Europe by EMI-probably rather exciting-but among the alternatives currently available here, the new recording by Catharina Meints and Doris Ornstein is the first to pose worthy competition for the Telefunken set. Meints plays three different viols: a 1723 Hassert, a 1743 Ouvrard, and a 1677-80 Tielke. Each sounds lovely indeed, as does the Dowd harpsichord (after Taskin) used in the D major and G minor Sonatas. (The harpsichord heard in the G major, by John Leek of Oberlin, sounds just a bit tinny.) The performances are impressively suave, with Meints fairly reveling in her instruments' velvety sonorities. Her playing is smoother and less strongly characterized than Harnoncourt's-though perhaps more labored-and she favors marginally slower tempos. I still prefer Harnoncourt ever so B Budget H Historical R Reissue A Audiophile (digital, direct-to-disc, etc.)
Steve Reich in his most ambitious work to date-see page 74. slightly but shall certainly give the new version further hearings. The recorded sound is quite fine. In the Second and Third Sonatas, the harpsichord occasionally overpowers the gamba; if the fault does not lie in the instruments themselves, it may lie with the players. The debits of the Starker/R8iii`ková recording far outweigh its credits. The use of a cello in place of a gamba is not in itself fatal, for I have heard quite satisfying performances of these pieces with cello and piano. The problem here is that the players' conceptions of the music are jarringly incompatible-and neither seems really in tune with its essence. Producing an unfocused and unrelentingly tremulous tone that effectively smudges the music's outlines, not to mention its finer details, Starker plays in a heavy-handedly Romantic way even as harpsichordist R8iicková tinkles along metronomically in tight-lipped neobaroque fashion. Moreover, the recording makes the cello sound distant and blurry, while the harpsichord, all too prominent, is at once thin and boxy of one. S.C. BEETHOVEN: Sonatas for Violin and Piano (10). Henryk Szeryng, violin; Ingrid Haebler, piano. PHILIPS 6769 011, $49.90 (five discs, manual sequence). Sonatas: No. I, in D, Op. 12, No. 1; No. 2, in A, Op. 12, No. 2; No. 3, in E flat, Op. 12, No. 3; No. 4, in A minor, Op. 23; No. 5, in F, Op. 24 (Spring); No. 6, in A, Op. 30, No. 1; No. 7, in C minor, Op. 30, No. 2; No. 8, in G, Op. 30, No. 3; No. 9, in A, Op. 47 (Kreutzer); No. 10, in G, Op. 96. COMPARISON: Perlman, Ashkenazy Lon. CSA 2501 BEETHOVEN: Sonatas for Violin and Piano: No. 2, in A, Op. 12, No. 2; No. 4, in A minor, Op. 23. Arthur Grumiaux, violin; Claudio Arrau, piano. PHILIPS 9500 263, $9.98. Tape: 7300 785, $9.98 (cassette). Henryk Szeryng began the international phase of his recording career as a protégé of Arthur Rubinstein, and one of their first collaborations was a coupling of the Spring and Kreutzer Sonatas for RCA (still available as LSC 2377; a subsequent account of Op. 30, No. 3, has been withdrawn). Szeryng is a remarkably consistent artist-a fact readily discernible from his recordings of whatever vintage. (Odyssey and Monitor have reissued some taped for French Pathé years before his brief stint with RCA. His most recent work, of course, has been for the Polygram siblings Deutsche Grammophon and Philips.) Basically, his playing is that of an innate classicist: lean, aristocratic, and controlled, stressing shapely contours rather than pulsating emotional warmth. A highly finished technician-and in his peculiar way a musician of considerable temperament-he has never been one to storm the heavens. His approach to the Beethoven sonatas is a bit more ascetic than Itzhak Perlman's, with the sforzandos generally more caustic and slashing, the sonority tighter and more focused; the divergences are highlighted by the reproduction: London's resonant and diffuse, Philips' more secco and compact. Nevertheless, the two cycles share certain important features: Both are essentially "modern" in their avoidance of wide tempo variation and flamboyant portamento, and both are textually scrupulous-using the Henle urtext, presumably. (Cf. my review of the Perlman/ Ashkenazy Kreutzer, July 1975.) I have never particularly responded to Ingrid Haebler's piano playing, but Szeryng's influence seems beneficial: For whatever reason, she plays with greater profile and intensity here, digging in more vehemently on fortissimos and not holding back on agogic accents. Her articulation is dryly expert, and her playing is mostly vigorous and un-prettified-recognizably Beethovenian. She maintains good basic rhythm, and virtually every movement is sensibly accentuated and structurally clear. The balance between the two instruments is exemplary, with the piano rightfully assuming an occasional lead. --------- Critics Choice The most noteworthy releases reviewed recently. BACH: English and French Suites, S. 806-17. Curtis. TELEFUNKEN 46.35452 (4), Ian. BARTOK: Blueheard's Castle, Op. 11. Sass, Kováts, Solti. LONDON OSA 1174, Ian. BEETHOVEN, MOZART: Keyboard Works. Bilson. NONESUCH 11 71377, N 78004, Feb. BEETHOVEN: Violin Concerto, Op. 61. Mutter, Karajan. DG 2531 250, Feb. BERG: Lulu: Suite. Der Wein. Blegen, Norman, Boulez. CBS M 35849, Jan. BRAHMS, BEETHOVEN: Clarinet Trios. Pieterson, Greenhouse, Pressler. Pinups 9500 670, Feb. BRAHMS: Double Concerto, Op. 102. Perlman, Rostropovich, Haitink. ANGEL SZ 37680, Dec. BRAHMS: Piano Trios Nos. 1, . Schneider-han, Mainardi, Fischer. BRUNO WALTER SOCIETY BWS 739, Feb. DVORAK: Symphony No. 7, Op. 70. Philadelphia, Ormandy. RCA RED SEAL ARL 13555, ov. GRIEG: Works for String Orchestra. Norwegian Chamber Orchestra, TOnnesen. BIs LP 147, Nov. HANDEL: Sonatas for Two Oboes and Continuo (6). I lolliger, Bourgue, Jaccottet. Pumps 9500671, Dec. HAYDN: L'Incontro improvviso. Zoghby, AhnsjS, Dorati. Pinups 6769 040 (3), Feb. HOLST: The Planets, Op. 32. Scottish National, Gibson. CIIANDOSABRD 1010, Feb. JANAcEK: Diary of One Who Vanished. Márová, Ptibyl, Pálenicek. SUPRAPHON I 1122414, Nov. LISZT: Hungarian Rhapsodies (7). Various. ARABESQUE 8011, Dec. MASSENET: Le Roi de Lahore. Sutherland, Lima, Milnes, Bonynge. LONDON 3LDR 10025 (3), Jan. MOZART: Eine kleine Nachtmusik, K. 525; Ein musikalischer Spass, K. 522. Amadeus. DG 2531 253, Dec. PURCELL: Music fora While. Dealer, Christie. HARMONIA MUNDI FRANCE HM 249, Jan. RUGGLES: Complete Works. Thomas, Kirkpatrick. CBS M234591 (2), Oct. SCHOENBERG: Orchestral Works. BBC Symphony, Boulez. CBS M 35882, Jan. SOLER: Keyboard Works. Puyana. MERCURY SRI 75131, Dec. ARTHUR FIEDLER: Forever Fiedler. RCA CRL 3-3599 (3), Sept. FERNANDO DE LUCIA: The Gramophone Company Recordings, 1902-9. RUBINI RS 305 (5), Dec. EZIO PINZA: The Golden Years. PEARL GEMM 162/3 (2), Feb. ------------------- Still, there is too much prosaic primness. High-spirited movements, such as the finale of Op. 30, No. 3, show inordinate sobriety; conversely, moments of piercing introspection (the slow movements of Op. 30, No. 2, Op. 47, and Op. 96, most notably) tend to be neutralized by brisk, perfunctory tempos. The Eroica-like opening movement of Op. 12, No. 3, though strong in intent, bogs down in its own earnestness, and the first movement of the Kreutzer is not "Presto." The playing, never less than accomplished, is too often phlegmatic. Some of my unkind words for the earlier installments in Philips' other cycle by Arthur Grumiaux and Claudio Arrau (9500 055/220, April 1980) I now cheerfully eat. A few problems remain, perhaps, as in the slightly choppy finale of Op. 72, No. 2, but that work's Andante and the galloping vigor of the Schumannesque Op. 23's first movement suggest the meeting of minds that seemed previously to elude them. These performances, in fact, have more thrust and buoyant energy than Szeryng/Haebler. Philips uses the same annotations for both cycles, a sensible economy. H.G. BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 6, in F, Op. 68 (Pastoral). Stuttgart Klassische Philharmonie, Karl Münchinger, cond. 'Peter Springer, prod.' INTERCORD INT 160.828, $10.98 (distributed by Brilly Imports, 155 N. San Vicente Blvd., Beverly Hills, Calif. 90211). Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, Carlo Maria Giulini, cond. Hans Weber and Hanno Rinke, prod.' DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 2531 266, $9.98. Tape: 3307 266, $9.98 (cassette). Philadelphia Orchestra, Riccardo Muti, cond. 'Christopher Bishop, prod.' ANGEL SZ 37639, $8.98. Tape: 4ZS 37639, $8.98 (cassette). Here are three recognizably different views of Beethoven's countryside. Karl Münchinger's account uses reduced forces, but unlike Michael Tilson Thomas' with the English Chamber Orchestra (CBS M 35169, April 1980), it doesn't sound small; though the performances share a certain astringent clarity and edge, especially in the strings, Münchinger's thunderstorm is thoroughly commanding. Some of his older performances seem overly genteel (his Haydn Surprise, for instance), yet this is a refreshingly brisk, warmhearted Pastoral, very much in the tradition of Schalk, Weingartner, Erich Kleiher, and Toscanini/BBC Symphony. The Stuttgart Klassische Philharmonic plays with passion and precision, and the reproduction is splendidly balanced and robust. Carlo Maria Giulini's Los Angeles Philharmonic is not especially massive-sounding either. The strings are sweet and warm if not absolutely disciplined or polished, the winds and brasses thoroughly musicianly if slightly characterless. The want of virtuoso ensemble makes this reading sound less full and massive than Giulini's riper one with the New Philharmonia (Angel S 36684), despite its slowish pacing. In many ways it resembles the famous latei950s Bruno Walter edition (Odyssey Y 33924) and probably uses many of the same players. While nothing goes seriously wrong here, )ochum's recent London Symphony Pastoral (Angel S 37530) makes a stronger case for the genial, easygoing approach. Riccardo Muti's recent Seventh (Angel S 37538, July 1979) was listless and tentative in its first two movements but on the button in its last two. His Pastoral flows consistently, yet, as with much of the young conductor's recent work, phrasing is flaccid and incoherent. Whether due to amorphous acoustics, an overlarge orchestra still insufficiently attuned to his desires, or, quite possibly, his own lack of musical direction, detail becomes trivial and linear tension flags in the unfolding phrases. There are no stresses, good or bad, in the outlining of structure, bass lines amble along without providing support, everything sounds bland and lifeless. With his superior sensitivity to nuance and color but his seeming unconcern for rhythmic rigor, Muti reminds one of Georges Pratre (who, however, had the good sense of steer clear of the classics). All three conductors observe the third-movement repeat, hut only Muti that in the first movement. His and Giulini's accounts are better than some; Münchinger's is better than most-a classic reading that 1 expect to return to often. H.G. BERIO: Coro. For a review, see page 56. BERLIOZ: Symphonic fantastique, Op. 14. Cleveland Orchestra, Lorin Maazel, cond. 'Andrew Kazdin, prod.' CBS MASTERWORKS M 35867; $8.98. Tape: MT 35867, $8.98 (cassette). COMPARISONS: C. Davis/Concertgebouw Phi. 6500 774 ---------- Mehta/N.Y. Phil. Lon. LDR 10013 Maazel's Berlioz is the wholly uninhibited arch-Romantic wildman who originally concocted the truly fantastic, putatively autobiographical, drug-dream program for his Op. 14 "symphony." It's now largely forgotten that the mature composer withdrew that program, retaining only the movement titles. And despite obsessive popular fascination with the programmatic fiction, musicians have always been far more fascinated by the score's strictly musical qualities. Nevertheless, Maazel's old-fashioned approach (relatively novel in recordings nowadays) serves well for the last two movements: Rarely have the "March to the Scaffold" and the "Witches' Sabbath" achieved fiercer bite and impact or sounded more terrifyingly demoniac. But the same vehement intensity makes for an emotionally heavy-handed first movement and a hard-pressed, inelegant second. By contrast, the third movement is straightforward, too consistently prosaic to capture the music's incomparable poignancy. Maazel observes the first-movement repeat while wisely ignoring that in the fourth and uses a cornet-á-pistons in the second. Actually, the cornet is here tonally coarse enough to explain the reluctance of many conductors to use it. For that matter, all the Clevelanders sound somewhat unrefined tonally, especially in the louder tuttis-on disc at least; I haven't yet heard the cassette. The sole attraction here is the sensational impact of the two last movements. Elsewhere, there is no challenge to the sonic lucidity of Mehta's digital version (August 1980) or to the Gallic authenticity of Monteux, Munch, and (with a French orchestra) Martinon. The 1974 Davis account, however, combines Apollonian poetic eloquence, superb orchestral playing, and overwhelmingly dramatic and solid recording. It remains the first choice for most connoisseurs in any of its disc or tape formats but especially in the recent Barclay-Crocker open-reel edition ("Tape Deck," November 1980). R.D.D. DEBUSSY: Nocturnes (3); Jeux. Concertgebouw Orchestra, Bernard Haitink, cond. PHILIPS 9500 674, $9.98. Tape: 7300 769, $9.98 (cassette). DEBUSSY: La Mer. RAVEL: Ma Mere l'Oye; Rapsodie espagnole. Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, Carlo Maria Giulini, cond. (Hans Weber and Hanno Rinke, prod.] DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 2531 264, $9.98. Tape: 3301 264, $9.98 (cassette). Continuing his Debussy cycle, Bernard Haitink performs the Nocturnes with his usual care and integrity-and with a sobriety these pieces can ill afford. The readings are disconcertingly static, especially those of ""Nuages"' and "Sirénes.'" One need only refer to the old Monteux/Boston Symphony recording (Quintessence PMC 7027) to find the qualities missing here: a feeling of ebb and flow, a vitality even in the softest and slowest passages. The surging quality of Monteux's "Sirénes"" reminds one that this is, after all, a sea piece. Haitink's reading is less evocative, and his rather sedate choir of sirens wouldn't lure any sailor off course. In-Fetes"" he is reasonably animated yet still too sober. The muted trumpet fanfares that begin the processional section are much too loud, with none of the requisite feeling of distance. He correctly presents the first trumpet note as a sixteenth, rather than the thirty-second one often hears; but as if to prove the point, that note is so completely detached from what follows as to destroy the magical atmosphere of the passage. And why do so many conductors, Haitink included, ignore the slurs in the trumpet parts here and in the succeeding woodwind and horn passages? Monteux was one of the few to heed them. Jeux is among the most difficult works in the repertory to conduct, what with its frequent changes of tempo and the Flexibility required within the various tempos. Haitink handles all this beautifully, presenting the score as a convincing totality rather than the series of short episodes it can easily become. This "tennis game" is enjoyable, though again just a bit too serious, missing some of the playfulness and spontaneity of Martinon's recording (Angel S 37066). The Concertgebouw Orchestra plays both works beautifully, and the recording meets Philips' usual high standard. During their 1979 spring tour, Carlo Maria Giulini and the Los Angeles Philharmonic gave one of the finest live performances of La Mer I've ever heard-a warm, vibrant, surging, exciting account. Thus, I approached their recording, presumably made around the same time, with great anticipation, only to he bitterly disappointed; it has none of the qualities I remember from the live performance. True, most of the tempo and dynamic markings are scrupulously observed, and the orchestra plays well. Nevertheless, this rendition, virtually devoid of animation, falls flat. The famous triplet passage for divided cellos in the first section, which should he played scherzando, is pulled back and made to sound "expressive"-entirely out of character. And at many other moments throughout, the vitality of the music gives way to this kind of "expression." The great climax in as both composer and conductor. Publicity flyers promised the world premiere of a Samuel work entitled Two Minor Desperations. By the evening of the performance, however, Two had become Three, the composer having furnished a middle section at the last minute. What neither the audience nor Samuel had anticipated was a Fourth Minor Desperation--a loud buzz emanating from the amplification system that had been set up to improve the acoustics of the Galleria Showplace, an immense brick structure located in the city's rehabilitated warehouse district. The noise prompted Samuel to interrupt soprano Constance DeFotis and an ensemble drawn from members of the Symphony. All waited until the errant speaker was silenced. Then Three .Minor Desperations was begun again. After it was all over, the composer was visibly upset. But he needn't have been. His new piece, set to the superb love poetry of, Jack Larson, received a dramatic reading the second time around-a performance that revealed T tree Minor Desperations as an important contribution to the contemporary vocal repertory. Tilt style of this work is calculated but in no sense facile. The essential strength of the music comes from the way it manipulates the listener emotionally: Samuel seems to be one of the few contemporary practitioners interested in and successful at doing this. Disclaimers notwithstanding, time piece sounds vaguely tonal. The vocal part--which DeFotis handled with impeccable intonation and diction--is lyrical, and musical rhymes are used to great effect. Most impressive, perhaps, is the writing for instrumental ensemble. Each change of texture and choice of timbre strikes the listener as being utterly right.
-----------122 Samuel: utterly right; Reise: accessible yet complex
The program also included compositions by Robert Moran and Stephen Mosko, as well as a virtuoso vocal performance by Moran of Roman Haubenstock-Ramat is spasmodic Credentials. On the whole, the concert was, like the rest of the series, notable for the relative accessibility of its music and the largeness of the audience. KENNETH V. FAIN. Syracuse Syracuse Symphony: Reise Symphony II [premiere' Jay Reise's gripping Symphony //, premiered by the Syracuse Symphony under Christopher Keene on November 6 and 8, is a twenty-minute work for very large orchestra incorporating both tonality and what the thirty-year-old composer calls "the searing gestures of post-Webern serialism." That combination may be common these days, but this score is far more compelling than most comparable works. First, Reise-a composer as attuned to Fauré and Rachmaninoth as to Boulez-has a deeply felt lyrical strain: few contemporary composers could match the bittersweet melancholy of his rich string outpourings. Second, although it is an expansive work (tempos are often slow, ideas develop over broad spans), every note tells. The structure is tight (a short Prelude in sonata form, followed by an Aria with variations uniting slow and fast movements in the manner of Beethoven's Op. III), and the transitions are paced so that the climaxes seem inevitable-cataclysmic rather than merely brutal. Most important, Reise has achieved a rare balance between accessibility and complexity. As the warm audience response demonstrated, Symphony /1 hits hard. Yet each rehearing yields a deeper appreciation of the dense counterpoint, the metric modulations, and the intricate mot ivic interrelationships: this is music whose beauties go well beneath the surface. Symphony 1/ is dedicated to the Syracuse Symphony, who played it with power and authority. Even where the sheer mass of musical material offers a temptation to smudge, Keene demanded (and got) a chilling clarity of articulation. Given the obvious effort that went into preparing this premiere, one would have forgiven the orchestra for sloughing off on the rest of the program. But there was no need. George Coble, undaunted by his lip-wrenching first trumpet part, came right hack to join soprano Phyllis Bryn-,Julson in a spirited account of Bach's Cantata No. 51. The orchestral accompaniment to Br\ n-Julson's sumptuous reading of Grilles' Three Songs of Fiona MacLeod was similarly expert, and the evening ended with a buoyant Beethoven Second. PETER J. RABINO\VITZ the middle of the finale, which was absolutely shattering in Toscanini's hands (as in no other conductor's), sounds decidedly tame. In short, this just isn't my cup of sea. The Ravel side of this generously filled record is somewhat more successful. Giulini offers a beautiful and sensitive Mother Goose Suite, but again the "Laideronnette"" movement, the only lively section of the piece, is too slow, and the majestic closing pages sound a bit perfunctory. The Rapsodie espagnole is elegantly done, but the fast sections lack excitement. For want of any animation preceding it, the abrupt acceleration near the end seems merely an afterthought. And just prior thereto, what should he a slight holding back becomes a complete stop. Throughout this record, all concerned seem to be striving to produce the most beautiful sounds possible; they end up draining the music of impact. Nor does the boxy, lopsided recording help. The orchestra leans into the right channel, and many soft violin passages in La Mer are simply inaudible. Perhaps DG should take lessons from Philips in how to record an orchestra. J.C. DEBUSSY: Vocal and Choral Works. Barbara Hendricks* and Solange Vallancien`, sopranos; Jocelyne Taillon, mezzo-soprano'; Leonard Pezzino, tenor'; Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone"; Chorus of the Orchestre de Paris*", Orchestre de Paris, Daniel Barenboim, cond. (Wolfgang Stengel*", Günther Breest* u Werner Mayer', and Steven Paul'', prod.) DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPIION 2531 263, $9.98. La Damoiselle élue'; Trois Ballades de Francois Villon"; Invocation'; Salut Printemps`. The real wonder here is Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau's performance of the 1910 Trois Ballades de Francois Villon, marvelous songs written in Debussy's tightest and sparsest style. Less intelligent singers try to sweeten them, make them charming; Fischer-Dieskau, far from adding sugar, finds cynical undercurrents in the love song, the prayer, and the ode to the women of Paris. These are songs of the street, not the parlor. With vivid backing from Daniel Barenboim and the Orchestre de Paris, his reading suggests that he'll find his own pleasures with his own head and gut, barging forth to take from life whatever he can get. It's a wonderfully evocative performance, and even though the Villon Songs don't fit neatly with the other works, one has to be glad they're here. The rest of the pieces, all choral, are still less familiar. The best known is the latest, La Damoiselle élue, written when the composer was in his mid-twenties and probably the prime example of his mystical/religious side. This setting of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's text for women's voices and orchestra descends directly from Parsifal but also relates to Massenet in its naive eroticism; in the best sense, it is very, very pretty. Barbara Hendricks, the sweet and pure soprano, and mezzo Jocelyne Taillon, who sings the story line, join the women of the Orchestre de Paris's chorus. The other two choruses, of which I can trace no previous recordings, were both losers in Debussy's quest for the Prix de Rome. Salut Printemps, set for soprano solo, women's chorus, and orchestra, is the earlier of the two; though charming, it did not even make the finals of the competition. The next year, 1883, Invocation did qualify its composer for the second round, but again, he did not get to Rome. For tenor, men's chorus, and orchestra, this is the more inventive of the short cantatas, ye` neither shows Debussy at his best. He never entirely lost his spark in trying to please the judges, but the chosen subjects and texts evidently failed to inspire him. The weakest link in these performances is the chorus, which tends to be sloppy. The Orchestre de Paris plays extremely well, with just the right shadings and turne of phrase. K.M. DVORÁK: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, in A minor, Op. 53; Romance in F minor, Op. 11. Josef Suk, violin; Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, Václav Neumann, cond. (Jan Vrána, prod.] SUPRAPHON 1410 2423, $8.98 (SQ-encoded disc). R Josef Suk, violin; Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, Karel Anted, cond. [Ladislav Sip, prod.] QUINTE55ENCE PMC 7112, $5.98. Tape: P4C 7112, $5.98 (cassette). (From ARTIA ALP 193, 1962.) Salvatore Accardo, violin; Concertgebouw Orchestra, Colin Davis, cond. PHILIPS 9500 406, $9.98. Tape. 7300 614, $9.98 (cassette). These alternative issues of the same coupling offer a fascinating comparison of both musical and technical philosophies. The Supraphon disc was made in 1978, when Suk was nearing his fiftieth birthday; the Quintessence (previously available on Artia, and more recently as a Supraphon Correction: Bridget Paol'ucci in her article "The-New Young Lions" (January], recommended the recording "The Art of Richard Stoltzman," incorrectly identified as an Orion product; it is actually Desmar DSM 1014G, import) dates from the early Sixties and preserves the work of a then up-and-coming virtuoso. Both, in their different ways, offer noteworthy performances, the newer versions being a bit more relaxed and genial. Without in any way lessening his patrician dignity, Suk has become a little more freewheeling rhythmically-more conscious of the longer line, the grand gesture. Some of the change may reflect factors other than age; Neumann's conducting is somewhat more easygoing than Aneerl's tauter, more Szell-ous approach, and the later recording, sonorous and natural-sounding, is less insistent in its pinpointing of detail. All the instrumental asides are readily discernible, but one no longer has the feeling that presence mikes are all about, ready and eager to capture every countermelody with prickly clarity. Though the earlier engineering wears its years honorably, it betrays moments of strident acerbity notably absent from the later production. The older readings have more than proved their durability, but the new ones may have still greater emotional substance. Accardo's sound, as in his Brahms and Bruch performances, tends toward "whiteness"; while Suk's interpretations are essentially similar, trim and classical, his sonority seems positively burnished by comparison-copper, as opposed to chrome. This is not meant to derogate Accardo. Indeed, his moonlit purity of tone effectively sets off the intertwining solo part from the uncommonly robust, dark-sounding Concertgebouw backdrop. Philips' engineering may well be the best these works have ever had, adding somewhat more focus and definition to the spacious heft of the newer Suk version. Davis elicits some delicious soft timpani playing, but the Czech trumpets are occasionally more incisive. I'd be hard pressed to choose: I slightly prefer Suk's sound in this rapturous writing, and of course, the Czech Philharmonic's Dvorák needs no special pleading; but Davis and Concertgebouw provide such superlative backup for Accardo's adroit and distinguished solo work that the finish is a dead heat. This lovely music has fared unusually well on record, from its earliest days with Menuhin/Enesco and Kulenkampff/ Jochum right down through Martzy/Fricsay, Stern/Ormandy, Perlman/Barenboim, and three Milstein editions to the three versions here, which emphatically belong in such illustrious company. H.G. HAYDN: Mass (Theresien-Messe). A Lucia Popp, soprano; Rosalind Elias, No. 10, in B flat mezzo-soprano; Robert Tear, tenor; Paul Hudson, baritone; London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, Leonard Bernstein, cond. [John McClure, prod.) CBS MASTERWORKS IM 35839, $14.98 (digital recording). Tape: HMT 35839, $14.98 (cassette). HAYDN: Mass No. 2, in E Bat (Missa in honorem Beatissimae Virginis Mariae; Great Organ). Judith Nelson, soprano; Carolyn Watkinson, alto; Martyn Hill, tenor; David Thomas, bass; Christ Church Cathedral Choir (Oxford), Academy of Ancient Music, Simon Preston, dir. [Peter Wadland, prod.] OISEAU-LYRE DSLO 563, $9.98. Tape: KDSLC 563, $9.98 (cassette). Haydn's Masses were often attacked for their frivolity; the composer is said to have replied that when he thought of God's infinite goodness "he could have written even a Miserere in tempo allegro." More recently Charles Rosen has renewed the attack (in The Classical Style); he calls this excuse "magnificently disingenuous" and judges Haydn's Masses "uncomfortable compromises." I think they only appear to be compromises because we are unfamiliar with the stylistic conventions of eighteenth-century Viennese and Austrian church music; the same accusation of wild stylistic variety has been leveled at Mozart's C minor Mass. These recordings capture, in their very different ways, some of the joyful simplicity and exuberant power of Haydn's devotion. It may seem absurd to say that the small-scale recording, with a tiny choir of boys and men, is more joyful and more powerful than Bernstein's grandiose vision with the London Symphony Chorus, yet that is the result. Bernstein's performance is a great, generalized dance of God: a gloriously operatic set of dance movements shorn of any sense of period style. The performance is alive and cohesive, and there is much less stumbling on the sidelines than I remember from the live account he gave in London while recording the work. Yet there is always a feeling that the choral singing should he tighter, that the strings' passage-work should be more precise; the "Qui tollis" should bite harder, the "Et recurrexit" should take wing. The one treasurable feature here is Lucia Popp's solo soprano, stylish in the Benedictus, with a simple, un-fussy integrity that puts her companions in the shade. Listen to them all in the lovely "Et in spiritum sanctum" section: First Rosalind Elias bumps clumsily into the flowing phrase; then Paul Hudson and Robert Tear sing it boringly; but then Popp floats up to a top B flat with just the right lilt. The Academy of Ancient Music's version of the long, so-called Great Organ Mass is far cooler. It follows the accounts of the Missa brevis in F and the St. Nicholas Mass (Oiseau-Lyre DSLO 538), among the freshest and most delightful Haydn performances I have ever heard. Choir and soloists have a crisp, clear sound that is well supported by the original instruments. Simon Preston's direction, however, does not overlook the powerful moments in the music, and as I have indicated, he obtains far more precision and force at those points than Bernstein could. The "Et vitanr venturi" fugue is outstanding; the clean-edged accuracy in the "Gratias agimus" is delicious. There are moments of weakness in the work, though not, I think, in the "Dona nobis," which (both in his Haydn biography and on the sleeve) H. C. Robbins Landon criticizes for its interruption of a "noble fugue" and "great fugal line" with chirping organ solo passages. He cannot have heard this performance: Here the "Dona nobis" skips along exuberantly with a feeling of pastoral abandon, and Christopher Hog-wood's organ interpolations are not in the least incongruous. Robbins Landon also writes of a "monumental" Sanctus, but here it is broad and gentle. This is a most successful recording. It leads me to hope that, in spite of the popularity of the Academy/Christ Church Messiah, which Hogwood conducts, the direction of their choral recordings is left in Preston's hands, for his instinctive understanding of the music ideally complements the Academy's studied care. N.K. LIGETI: Three Pieces for Two Pianos. For a review, see page 56. MADERNA: Aura; Biogramma; Quadrivium. For a review, see page 56. MAYUZUMI: Nirvana Symphony; Mandala Symphony. For a review, see page 56. MOZART: Die Entführung aus dem Serail, K. 384'; Alternative Duet and Insert Arias (=Smith arr.)'. CAST': Constanze Christiane Eda- Pierre (s)/ Renate Pichler (spkr) Blondchen Norma Burrowes (s)/ Pia Werfel (spkr) Belmonte Stuart Burrows (t)/ Friedhelm Ptok (spkr) Pedrillo Robert Tear (t)/ Franz Rudnick (spkr) Osmin Robert Lloyd (bs)/ Herbert Weicker (spkr) Bassa Selim Curt Jürgens (spkr) John Alldis Choir, Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Colin Davis, cond. PHILIPS 6769 026, $29.94 (three discs, manual sequence). Tape: 7699 I11, $19.96 (two cassettes). 'Duet: Welch 3ngstliches Beben, K. 389 (Burrows, Tear).* Arias: Manner suchen stets zu naschen, K. 433 (Lloyd)=; Müsst ich auch durch tausend Drachen, K. 435 (Burrows)=; Ich mbchte wohl der Kaiser sein, K. 539 (Lloyd); Schon lacht der holde Frühling, K. 580 (Eda-Pierre)*. COMPARISON-Eritfii h ru Hg: Auger, Grist, Schreier, Moll/ Bohm DG 2709 051 After Sir Colin Davis' recent recordings of Puccini and Verdi, it is a relief to find him tackling music in which he sounds so thoroughly at home. Using smaller forces than usual, he achieves a very convincing lissomeness. Indeed, from the standpoint of conducting, this performance-clear in texture, fleet, and lively-is by far the most persuasive available. By comparison, Karl BShm's reading now seems somewhat stodgy, if still undeniably handsome. Davis' would be the undisputed winner if only the cast were stronger. As it is, the choice is difficult. Though Bóhm's singers are by no means the most distinguished imaginable, they nevertheless ex-HIGH FIDELITY cel Davis', a curiously unsatisfactory lot. It is no doubt consistent with Davis' view of the opera that his singers should be lightweight vocally (so, as it happens, are Bohm's), but they are, in addition, lightweight artistically. Of ardor and emotional engagement I hear little evidence in the tasteful, technically proficient singing of Stuart Burrows (Belmonte) or in the involuntarily tremulous tones of Christiane EdaPierre, who, paradoxically enough, sounds secure only in the more demanding sections of passagework, abundant in the role of Constanze. Robert Lloyd, top-heavy in voice, is a singularly unconvincing Osmin; he seems to have learned the part by rote. Robert Tear, possessor of one of the ugliest voices on disc, comes across as a fussy, prissy Pedrillo, maddeningly under-sung and over-inflected. Norma Burrowes is a pert enough Blondchen, though not as secure vocally as she was at the Met last year. The chorus is good, and the Academy of St. Martin plays with real distinction. The distinguished actor Curt Jürgens portrays Bassa Selim as if he were whispering the role into a confidant's ear. The actors who handle the spoken sections of the libretto match their singing counterparts in neither timbre nor personality. Nor do their German accents always coincide. A curious grab bag fills the sixth side. Apart from the bass aria, K. 539, all are pieces abandoned by the composer and completed and orchestrated by Erik Smith. The results are of minimal interest. The sound is finely gauged, but my pressings are not quite as faultless as I have come to expect from Philips. Notes and libretto are given in German, English, and French. D.S.H. RAVEL Ma Mere l'Oye; Rapsodie espagnole-See Debussy: Nocturnes; Jeux. REICH: Music for a Large Ensemble*; Octet*; Violin Phase'. Various performers*; Shem Guibbory, violin'. [Manfred Eicher, prod.] ECM 1-1168, $8.98 (distributed by Warner Bros. Records, Inc., 3 E. 54th St., New York, N.Y. 10022). Steve Reich's works tend to be slow-moving affairs, with complex rhythmic and harmonic structures hatched from what seems at first to be the crudest kernel of a musical idea. He may have two or more instrumentalists begin by playing a figure in unison and then gradually go out of phase with each other. Or he may write into his scores a series of verbal cues that tell certain players to add or subtract notes from their parts, making the phase shifting even more complicated. In a way, each of these slowly unfolding pieces represents in microcosm Reich's entire composing career: Just as one moment in a piece seems to have melted out of that preceding, each new work seems an embellishment on the principles of the previous model. Thus, the Octet (1979) that fills Side 2 owes a great deal to the Music for a Large Ensemble (1978) that opens Side 1. The latter, in turn, is an amplification of ideas and techniques Reich first explored in Music for Mallet Instruments, Voices, and Organ (1973; DG 2740 106) and Music for Eighteen Musicians (1976; ECM 1129). The third work here, Violin Phase (1967), provides an interesting perspective: While it is closer in form and feeling to the piece of mylar périté phase shifting that brought the composer to attention, Come Out (1966; Odyssey, deleted), its lineal connection to the later works here is quite clear. In fact, Violin Phase is the most satisfying composition of the three. Here a solo violinist plays with (against?) up to three recorded tapes of himself, the four strands weaving in and out of phase. Merely coping with the gradually changing tape patterns presents problems enough, yet the score further demands that the "live" violinist extrapolate some of the unwritten patterns formed by the phase shifting and play those along with the tapes. Shem Guibbory chooses some pretty, almost Prokofiev-like patterns that liven up what could easily be a more tedious score in lesser hands. Music for a Large Ensemble, scored for twenty-eight players and two singers, is Reich's most ambitious work to date, not only in the number of performers, but more significantly, in his more aggressive (and in a way, more traditional) approach to instrumental part-writing. Granted, the start-to-finish Reichian repetition of melody and rhythm remains, providing here and in the octet a kind of foundation for a modestly melodic superstructure. But instrumental groups enter and exit more suddenly than in his previous pieces, and the repetitive melodic material changes more quickly. Also, the internal section divisions are more clearly marked and discrete, less gradual than in earlier scores; and Reich allows the instrumental density to ebb and Flow more freely. Neither the octet nor the Music for a Large Ensemble might be mistaken for a tuneful composition, but both have an attractively jazzy feeling. Still, there are problems inherent in Reich's chosen style: First, despite more melody and greater scoring finesse here than in his other scores, the musical ideas are scant. Second, there is a lack of real contrast. No matter how subtly the dynamics and density shift, the insistent rhythmic repetition continues without a moment of mitigating silence (an important compositional element Reich eschews), and the effect can soon become wearying and soporific. The performances, by an ensemble whose core has worked closely with Reich for years, are no doubt ideal, if sometimes a bit music-boxy. The recording is often muddy, especially in the fuller sections of Music for a Large Ensemble. For those unfamiliar with Reich's music, this may provide as good an introduction as can be had on a single disc, pairing as it does an early phase piece with more recent efforts on both large and moderate scales. But easier entry to his world might be gained via the Music for Eighteen Musicians. A.K. STOCKHAUSEN: Sternklang; Sirius. For a review, see page 56. TAKEMITSU: Instrumental Works. For a review, see page 56. VERDI: Requiem. Katia Ricciarelli, soprano; Shirley Verrett, mezzo-soprano; Placido Domingo, tenor; Nicolai Ghiaurov, bass; La Scala Chorus and Orchestra, Claudio Abbado, cond. [Rainer Brock, prod.] DEUTSCHE GRAMMOPHON 2707 120, $19.96 (two discs, manual sequence). Tape: 3370 032, $19.96 (two cassettes). COMPARISON: Schwarzkopf, Ludwig, Gedda, Ghiaurov/Giulini Ang. SB 3649 As one who much admired Claudio Abbado's performances of the Verdi Requiem in Washington and New York during the 1976 visit of La Scala, I have been eagerly anticipating his recording. Abbado's sense of the work as a dramatic and musical totality, his ability to instill in his associates a comparable passion and understanding, had yielded results on the Toscanini level and promised a recording that would rival, even surpass, the best modern version, that of Carlo Maria Giulini-who, in his present, more Olympian phase, no longer projects the work with the intensity of his 1963 recording. In the event, my hopes have not been realized. All the earmarks of Abbado's care and precision are here. Certain textures are beautifully realized: the shifting orchestral tremolos as the first Dies Irae fades away, the uncanny proto-Stravinskian orchestration immediately thereafter (at "Quantus tremor"). The exceptional qualities of the Scala chorus and orchestra can sometimes be discerned: the strength and depth of the choral tone, the warmth of the strings, the bite of the brass. But only sometimes discerned-for this is a hard and ugly piece of recorded sound, a real step backward from DG's previous Requiem, that suave and uncommitted Karajan performance (2707 065) that might just as well have played the piece from back to front, so suppressed was any sense of direction and destination. As usual with DG, the solo voices are unnaturally prominent; here, unfortunately, there is no sense of air and warmth resounding around them. The chorus in full cry-in 1976 a noble sound-now emerges raw and barky, and it covers the orchestra too much in the Sanctus, obscuring independent lines and sometimes its own detail as well. At that exquisite point in the Agnus Dei where the two women soloists are joined by a trio of Flutes, my notes read, "This doesn't sound like a real place"-and that is frequently the case: Balance, resonance, and tonal quality imply mutually incompatible spaces, which is destructive of both sonic and musical credibility. Even this might be tolerated for the sake of a great performance, but one does not happen here. I can't say whether Abbado's tempos are slower than they were in 1976 or are simply articulated with insufficient vitality. Some are slower than Verdi's metronome marks: Though the opening of the piece is well sustained even so, the Offertorio is labored, with none of the barcarolle-like swing implicit in the writing. Most of the time, this feels as if everyone were being too careful, worrying more about getting things Correct than about getting them Right. I have encountered other Abbado recordings where this happens, by contrast with his concert performances: the Mahler Second Symphony (DG 2707 094), for example, or the Stravinsky Pulcinella that I reviewed last year (DG 2531 087, February 1980). Too bad that it should have happened in this piece, obviously as important to him as to most listeners. In the circumstances, the inequities of the solo quartet matter less than they might. For all her clearly intense commitment, Katia Ricciarelli has an awkward time negotiating some of her lines-for example, letting us down at the end of the Offertorio by not making her final phrase a single long upbeat to the high A flat. Shirley Verrett, who on some past occasions has sung the soprano part in the piece, has her own technical problems-note the curious forward, "French"-sounding vowels she employs in the lower register-but she almost always gives her phrases some sense of weight and continuity. These two voices, so different in dimension, production, and color, adamantly refuse to blend in the "Recordare" and Agnus Dei. In Leonard Bernstein's 1970 recording of the Requiem (CBS M2 30060), Placido Domingo sang the tenor solo, a little tentatively; he now draws it on a more heroic scale, but sings less smoothly. I suspect that the slow tempo in the "Ingemisco" makes him uncomfortable. And I'm certain that the same problem bothers Nicolai Ghiaurov in the "Confutatis," for he indulges in a certain amount of beat-jumping. This is Ghiaurov's third time round the piece on records, and the voice has grown steadily more wooden in tone; to hear him at his best, go back to the Giulini recording. Go back there, too, to hear Verdi at his best. I am not convinced by Giulini's long and gradual ritards at the ends of movements (Abbado uncharacteristically indulges in this same mannerism at the end of the Offertorio), and the singing of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf is painfully unidiomatic, but that is still the preferable overall statement in stereo. Toscanini's 1951 NBC broadcast is the other point of reference, of course; it's still available from RCA (LM 4 6018). I'm afraid Abbadó s recorded performance ranks even below the recent Muti set (Angel SZB 3858); though a distinctly less elevated conception of the score, the latter does convey a sense of something vivid happening, and it is decently recorded. DG's background essay by David Rosen is as fine an introduction to the Requiem as I have read. D.H. ZIMMERMANN: Perspektiven; Monologe. For a review, see page 56. Recitals and Miscellany MAURIZIO POLLINI: Piano Music of the Twentieth Century. For a review, see page 56. EDWARD TARR AND ELIZABETH WESTENHOLZ: Works for Trumpet and Piano. Edward Tarr, trumpet; Elizabeth Westenholz, piano. [Robert von Bahr, prod.' Bis LP 152, 59.98 (distributed by Qualiton Records, 39-28 Crescent St., Long Island City, N.Y. 11101). GERSHWIN: Rhapsody in Blue (arr. Dokschitser). MARTINU: Sonatina. ALEXIUS: Sonatina. HINDEMITH: Sonata. EDWARD TARR AND ELIZABETH WESTENHOLZ: Works for Trumpet and Organ. Edward Tarr, trumpet; Elizabeth Westenholz, organ. [Robert von Bahr, prod.[ Bis LP 151, $9.98. CELLIER: Theme and Variations on Psalm 149. HOLMBOE: Triade, Op. 123. WERNER: Duo, Op. 53. WEINER: Fantasy No. 1, Op. 57. THE VOICE OF TRUMPET AND ORGAN. Byron Pearson, trumpet; Arthur Vidrich, organ. CRYSTAL S 365, $7.98. TORELLI: Sinfonia con Tromba. HOVHANESS: Prayer of St. Gregory. SCHILLING: Canzona über "Christ ist erstanden." PINKHAM: The Other Voices of the Trumpet. NUCKOLLS: Chaconne. LANGLAIS: Chorale Preludes (2): Aus tiefer Not schrei ich zu dir; Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott. Back in 1966 a startling new planet swam into my ken: the extraordinary American-born musicologist/trumpeter Edward Tarr, featured in an EMI Odeon program, "Kunst der Trompeter." Later my "wild surmise" was richly confirmed by his Nonesuch series of concertos and duos, now lamentably curtailed. While any new representation of this artist would be welcome, the Bis examples are triply so: They compensate for some of the European recordings not made available here previously; they demonstrate that Tarr is not only a period-instrument and early-music specialist, but a bravura virtuoso second to none in modern repertories; and they offer new, simply thrilling sonic triumphs. At normal symphonic playback level, the closely miked clarion trumpet passages approach glass-shattering intensity. Yet with the vivid tonal qualities tautly controlled and subtly colored, these great blasts of sound are like invigorating sea gales. And the piano and organ parts-collaborations, not mere accompaniments are by no means subservient; indeed, the young Dane Elizabeth Westenholz plays with matching authority and tonal attractiveness on both a Bósendorfer piano and the Copenhagen Vangede Church's 1979 Frobenius and Sonnerorgan. The trumpet-piano program will have the broader appeal for non-specialist listeners, both for its powerful rendition of one of the most substantial works in this repertory, Hindemith's 1939 Sonata (with its characteristic Trauermusik finale), and for its spectacular novelty, the preposterous transcription of Rhapsody in Blue by the great Soviet trumpeter Timofey Dokschitser. 1 once accused Dokschitser of artistic vulgarism, and here is a prime example; yet this performance has such brilliance, impudent relish, and idiomatic authenticity that it's quite an irresistible romp. The sonatina by the North Carolinian Alexius is an unpretentious recital piece, disarming fun to hear as well as play. And the other sonatina, Martinu's of 1957, offers a stimulating reminder of that Czech composer's distinctive originality and motoric energy. The companion trumpet-organ disc also presents two remarkable works probably unfamiliar to most Americans, if they are not indeed recorded firsts: the unashamedly old-fashioned but profoundly moving-often poignantly haunting-1973 Duo by Fritz Werner (1898-1977), longtime director of the Heinrich Schutz Choir in Germany, and the fascinatingly odd yet rewarding 1974-75 Triade (dedicated to Tarr and Westenholz) by another of the great musical originals, the Dane Vagn Holmboe (born 1909), still far too little known. Then there are the less striking though sturdily effective variations on a Goudimel psalm tune by the French organist Alexandre Cellier and an overly improvisatory, meandering fantasy (premiered by Tarr and George Kent in 1976) by the Baltimore-born (1925) expatriate composer Stanley Weiner. A mixed bag indeed. But the two recordings are ringing proof that a scholar/ trumpeter can fully match-or beat-such showmen-virtuosos as Maurice André and Gerard Schwarz at their own game. So powerfully has the trumpet-organ discography been dominated by Tarr, with Kent and now Westenholz, that any less charismatic performers can only be overshadowed. Witness the recording by the Baltimore Symphony's former principal trumpeter Byron Pearson and blind scholar/organist Arthur Vidrich-pedestrian, sometimes even stilted, performances using an unattractively thick-toned organ (the 1975 Reuter in Detroit's First Baptist Church). And while the recording itself is cleanly bright, the helter-skelter nature of the program further confines its appeal to specialist listeners. The only early work is a fine Torelli concerto reduction (G. 8, in D, not the familiar one in that key). Everything else is mostly conservative-contemporary, topped by the oft-recorded Hovhaness Prayer of St. Gregory, and mildly daring only in Daniel Pinkham's Other Voices of the Trumpet, with its inexplicable interpolation of electronic sound effects. The remaining works are at best dull, at worst ersatz. R.D.D. Theater and Film RóZSA: Jungle Book: Suite.* WAX-MAN: Paradine Case: Rhapsody for Piano and Orchestra.° WEBB: Enchanted Cottage: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra. H Sabu, narrator; Victor Symphony Orchestra, Miklós Rózsa, cond.` Edward Rebner, piano; Franz Waxman, cond.' Max Rabinowitsch, piano; Constantin Bakaleinikoff, cond.' John Steven Lasher and John Waxman, prod.) ENTR'ACTE ERM 6002, $9.98 (monaural). Film-music aficionados have. long criticized the soundtrack-recording format, in which a disconnected series of usually brief, fragmentary, often repetitious music "cues" are strung together or stretched out to fill an LP. The Classic Film Scores series on RCA vividly demonstrated the validity of an alternative approach that offers much greater variety and substance by gathering several ten-to fifteen-minute suites or potpourris from different scores into a single program. Unfortunately, film composers have too rarely attempted the distillation needed to give their work cohesion, direction, and shape in concert performance and thus a hope for permanence. This long-awaited Entr'acte historical reissue restores to the catalog three early, near legendary efforts in this vein. To hear Miklós Rózsá s music for The Jungle Book in this initial recorded setting is to experience anew the amazing freshness, opulence, and graphicness of his imagination. He probably never surpassed the sensuousness, spontaneity, and invention of his response to the musico-dramatic possibilities of Korda's two fantasy films. (The other, of course, was the even more spectacular Thief of Baghdad, available in Elmer Bernstein's Film Music Collection.) The best-for that matter, the whole-of Rózsa is embryonically present in this fairy-tale opera without singers. He depicts a menagerie of idiosyncratic animal natures in sound, and the lure and menace of the surrounding jungle are palpable in his simple, bright colors, harsh outlines, and flat perspectives, reminiscent of the paintings of Rousseau. All the garish and luxuriant vitality emerge in this performance, which Rózsa conducts with all the relentless intensity and authority of a Toscanini leading the NBC Symphony (some of whose members probably participated in this studio session). Sabu's somewhat wistful reading of the Kipling-inspired narration adds point to-and occasional respite from-the real drama, which is all in Rózsa's scoring. Among the first generation of Hollywood composers, after Rózsa and Korn-gold, Franz Waxman was probably the most capable-in both training and temperament-of writing autonomous works for the concert hall. His adaptation of his 1947 score for Hitchcock's courtroom drama The Paradine Case is a "rhapsody" for piano and orchestra along the lines of Richard Addinsell's Warsaw Concerto (originally used in a film score). But whereas Addinsell's writing stresses bravura elements, Waxman's is much more introspective; its chromatically serpentine, slightly neurotic main theme conveys an entangling sense of erotic compulsion, though a secondary idea is more open and aristocratic. Both undergo a compact, modified "ballad" treatment based loosely on variation techniques. Encouraging as it is to find Roy Webb's vast, unsung contribution to film music represented on LP for the first time, his "concerto" for the romantic fantasy The Enchanted Cottage is an atypically pallid and diffuse exercise in an impressionist manner. Although Webb was never so distinguished a melodist as his better-known contemporaries, he was quite innovative harmonically; a better sample of his work can be found in a Decca Phase-4 collection by Stanley Black entitled "Satan Superstar," which features a suite from Webb's bloodcurdling score for The Seventh Victim (plus excerpts from Waxman's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde). For the Rózsa and Waxman works, Entr'acte provides well-nigh flawless transfers from the original 78s, with negligible scratch and wow. This is one of the most significant historical reissues of film music of the past several years. P.A.S. ----------------- (High Fidelity, Mar 1981) Also see: |