It may surprise you to learn that there were three editions of Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto: the first from 1875, the second a revision of 1879, and the third a posthumous version published in 1894. It is the latter that has been performed ever since, though it differs in many ways from the earlier versions.  Gerstein gives us the premiere recording of the 1879 version. Differences are notable, beginning with the opening, where the piano chords are arpeggiated rather than played as blocks. With the piano a kind of uber-harp, it brings the music closer to the world of Tchaikovsky’s ballet scores. This edition is a prettier work, with fewer opportunities for barnstorming. Cuts in the third movement have been opened up. Gerstein’s performance is lighter in texture than most; he and Gaffigan made this deliberate choice. At times I miss the passion and momentum of the young John Ogdon, but on its own terms this performance has integrity.  Prokofiev’s Second Concerto is similarly detailed and fluent, but occasionally cautious. The running scales of the scherzo could be more devil-may-care. In the first and third movements Gerstein’s humming proves a distraction, particularly on headphones. Why do some continue to indulge…

A dose of HIP early Beethoven is just what is needed when running a marathon.

Editor’s Choice, Orchestral – December 2015 Andris Nelsons has intimate first-hand knowledge of growing up under the cosh of the Soviet regime. As an impressionable 12-year old in 1990 he saw his native Latvia declare independence from the Soviet Union, and among the adjustments to be made was the joyful reappearance of his ‘disappeared’ grandfather, who had spent the previous 15 years holed up in Siberia. Is it because Nelsons understands instinctively the political lunacy that shaped this composer that he can play the music of Shostakovich as opposed to allowing his interpretations to become overstacked with symbolism, metaphor and mythology? Other conductors, of course, shared comparable experiences – Rozhdestvensky, Ashkenazy and Maxim Shostakovich, the composer’s son. But how rare it is to hear Shostakovich’s musical motivation so starkly delineated which, in turn, illuminates the politics. This first installment in a projected cycle to be released with the tag ‘Under Stalin’s Shadow’, opens with a sonic emergency. Shostakovich’s 1936 opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk was the source of all subsequent bother that the composer would have with the regime. Denounced in Pravda as “petit-bourgeois formalism”, Nelsons needs you to know precisely why this music displeased The Party. The introductory chords…

Daniel Barenboim’s 1967 set of the Brahms Concertos with Barbirolli and the New Philharmonia grabbed the moment as the young pianist embarked on a voyage of discovery safe in the knowledge that his mentor was on the podium. Barenboim’s 1980s remakes with Mehta and the New York Philharmonic have always struck me as curiously unlovely; the work of two hard-nosed pros with nothing to prove, or lose.  These new recordings stand somewhere between the two, a reminder that Brahms has been as much tormentor as mentor to Barenboim. The Staatskapelle Berlin is Barenboim’s own orchestra and Gustavo Dudamel is clearly having a ball pushing levers and turning knobs that, no matter what he does, are preset to generate a stylistic Brahmsian sound. Riccardo Chailly’s Leipzig set with Nelson Freire arguably finds pliant subclauses within their comparably authentic sound; but Dudamel doesn’t put a foot wrong. Barenboim’s playing comes, of course, loaded with gravitas, but he is not immune from moments of routine. The Second Concerto’s Allegro appassionato benefits from a temporary lift as Barenboim lightens textures during the repeat. But otherwise he defaults to rather monochrome dynamics and tone. The First is more consistent. Nothing is rushed or forced during…

Cunning Dutchmen give the usual suspects a run for their money.

First, it’s exciting to hear the great Philadelphia Orchestra in such fine form. It augurs well for Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s tenure. And second, Daniil Trifonov seems headed towards the “for once the hype is real” stratosphere on the strength of his first studio recording for DG. This ‘concept’ album showcases Rachmaninov works for variations, one orchestral, two for keyboard only, in which the young pianist pays homage to his musical idol. The Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini is truly sensational. This recording was made exactly 80 years after the legendary recording with the composer himself and Stokowski conducting this same orchestra. The pizzicati double bases in Variation 7 are beautifully captured but, for me, the most magical moments are Variations 11 and 12 where Trifonov’s aristocratic poise reminded me of Michelangeli (in very different repertoire) without the latter’s cold perfection.  The Chopin Variations (based on the C Minor Prelude) are rarely performed and not even Trifonov’s brilliance and insight can prevent them from outstaying their welcome. The Corelli Variations are another matter. The high points here are Variation 15, (Lullaby) which Trifonov manages to suffuse with an air of unease. The final pages are a model of hushed, haunted intensity….

The British classical website’s annual analysis of the musical endeavours of 2015 reflects the Aussie love of opera.

The highly accomplished Canadian arts leader was formerly the CEO of the Queensland Symphony Orchestra.

The Belgian 'early music' pioneer explains why period style matters, no matter what period.

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The piece, which has not seen or heard since 1909, was discovered in the music library at the University of Toronto.

Decca and Erato revisit the works and early recordings of the recently departed French nonagenarian. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in