Athough not yet 40, American composer Jennifer Higdon started late on a musical career but is now in hot demand. This 2008 violin concerto, written for and dedicated to her ex-student Hilary Hahn, won Higdon the Pulitzer Prize. The committee called it a “deeply engaging piece that combines flowing lyricism with dazzling virtuosity.”  High harmonics from the soloist introduce the playful first movement, followed by a lyrical and tonal slow movement that rises to a bracing climax before subsiding. The finale gives Hahn plenty of fireworks to play with. It resembles the final movement of Barber’s concerto. She is equally brilliant here, her clean, clear tone perfectly centred throughout. Her fast passagework is immaculate and, beyond technical matters, she brings every phrase to life. On disc Hahn has always coupled a lesser-known concerto with a concert favourite (Bernstein/Beethoven, Schönberg/Sibelius) and does so again here. She is light and lean in the Tchaikovsky, matched all the way by Petrenko’s detailed accompaniment. The effect is like cleaning a century of grime off an old painting. Even if you have several Tchaikovskys on your shelf, this is worth adding.

Sibelius’s Fourth is, for me, the most enigmatic symphony ever written. Both the second movement scherzo and finale trail off elliptically. Inkinen and his New Zealanders capture the intense bleakness of the first movement (described by one commentator as “groping in utter darkness in order to avoid the abyss, aided only by the occasional shaft of weak sunlight”). In the slow movement, the temperature drops to absolute zero – the subatomic particles simply stop vibrating – and here, these forces are up with the best. In the finale, perhaps the strangest movement of all, Inkinen cleaves to the glockenspiel (instead of chimes), whose silvery sonority is, on the face of it, the most incongruous instrument Sibelius could have chosen: it can sometimes remind you of The Nutcracker, or even worse, Der Rosenkavalier. Not here, thank heavens! I’m not quite as taken with the Fifth, although it has many fine features. Inkinen handles the gear change between the two halves of the first movement convincingly, but I think he baulks slightly at the great climaxes. In the coda at the end of the first movement, the brass doesn’t ring with quite the stentorian force that it does in Berlin (Karajan) or Philadelphia (Ormandy)….

This is virtuosity with no excuses. English clarinetist Michael Collins, abetted by Australian pianist Piers Lane, shows just how supple and exhilarating the clarinet can be, in a recital of works drawn from three centuries. The centrepiece is the great Grand Duo Concertant, Op 48, by Carl Maria von Weber. As the title suggests, this is very much a display piece for both instruments, with Lane happily sharing the limelight. Excitement is at the forefront, and the third and final movement is positively charged with drama, before it heads into a deceptive series of finales. The other major work is the premiere recording of a new piece composed in 2009 by clarinetist Simon Milton – his Carmen Fantasy Op 22, which carries with it almost as much bravura excitement as the most famous Carmen paraphrase, by Sarasate for violin. But all the other works, by Gershwin, Rachmaninov, Donato Lovreglio, Milhaud, Messager and Alamiro Giampieri, have their own felicities. Chandos has excelled itself with an up-front recording acoustic which suits the virtuosic nature of the recital. We hear both clarinettist and pianist centre stage as if we are in the choicest of recital hall seats. The clarinet is not my favourite instrument…

Franz Schubert left behind some 600 songs when he died in 1828. He was aged just 31 and his end came after the agony of tertiary syphilis – a cruel end for someone who created such beauty. This collection by Matthias Goerne is centred, as the title suggests, on songs of night and dreams, with lashings of melancholy, old age and presages of death. Goerne’s black voice is a perfect vehicle for such dark musings. His is a voice which seems to be moving from baritonal to bass, and in some instances – particularly the thunderous Totengräbers Heimweh (“Gravedigger’s Pining for Home”) his timbre assumes a positively Wagnerian strength. This is a fascinating compilation of Schubert in his darkest moods. As an antidote to its gloomy moments, I would recommend listening also to Goerne’s recording of Die schöne Müllerin, which has its share of grief too, but which also contains carefree beauty missing from this anthology. Don’t misunderstand me: this is a fine collection. But if the listener is starting out on a journey of Schubertian exploration, there are more varied shores to explore than these. Pianist Alexander Schmalcz accompanies satisfactorily, though the keenest sense of artistic collaboration is not fully evident on this disc. The recording acoustic is close, accentuating breathing,…

Just as I’d begun to wonder if Ashkenazy has anything interesting to say about Mahler, this perfomance completely restored my confidence. It’s long been almost a truism to opine that no one will ever dislodge the Klemperer/Ludwig/Wunderlich recording, but this one yields to no one in its beauty and honesty. Both soloists are excellent. Stuart Skelton negotiates the orchestral tuttis of the first song (The Drinking Song of the Earth’s Sorrow) like a true heldentenor, seething with bitterness and contempt while never being swamped by the huge climaxes nor resorting to bluster or rant. In the second song, The Lonely One in Autumn, Lilli Paasikivi is perfect, conveying the sense of unhappy solitude while the orchestral accompaniment conveys a real autumnal chill. In Of Beauty her articulation and breath control during the manic so-called ‘horseback’ interlude are miraculous. In the wrong hands this passage can resemble Ethel Merman belting out Everything’s Coming up Roses, as one critic wittily observed. In Der Abschied, her repetitions of the word ewig “forever” make her voice sound like an extension of the orchestra. The legendary producer Walter Legge, who supervised some of the Klemperer recording of this work, once said that in creating great recordings one…

The Art of Fugue is one of Bach’s most misunderstood works. As if all the other great Passions, Masses, instrumental suites, concertos and so on were not enough, Bach apparently set out in this work to demonstrate just what could be done with one of music’s great intellectual achievements, the fugue. There is the myth that he died while in the act of the composition of its last section: in fact he all but finished it some four years before his death, but always meant to go back to it. There is also the widely held misconception that it is a dry, academic work. It might be conceded that, if it is heard via one instrument only, or even by an unvarying ensemble of strings (say), then it might be somewhat challenging to follow its extraordinary complexity. If you feel any of those things, then this recording is for you. The outstanding Academy for Early Music Berlin offers a riveting journey through this wondrous music, using all the textures at its disposal. For example, the famous Contrapunctus 1 is delivered by a string quartet. It’s followed by a solo harpsichord, then two oboes, bassoon and trombone, then the whole orchestra,…

Looking for a new set of these remarkable works? A quick glance reveals there are over 30 sets of the Piano Concertos on the market at the moment, ranging from the historical (Schnabel and Kempff) to more contemporary recordings (Ashkenazy, Perahia, Brendel, Kissin and Barenboim). This new set from France is another take on these warhorses. Philippe Jordan states that he places the works at the core of his repertoire. They are well played and accompanied and there are no surprises. Simply good, sensitive Beethoven playing. Nor are these recordings overly reverberant, which is a blessing.The final movement of the Fifth is given a more lyrical treatment than usual. Quite often this section can turn into a piano bashing exercise, but Jordan treats it with welcome humour. The up-tempo section in the last movement of the First Concerto still makes one sit up. It is a delight, with its “cool” swing. I ran some comparisons with some benchmark EMI recordings from the 1950s. I expected to find the recordings with Emil Gilels stodgy, dragged down by pre-original instrument heavy-handedness. This is was not the case as they are fabulous performances. Gilels plays with far more character than Guy.However, it is an…

Mojca Erdmann is a young soprano from Hamburg, best known for her role in Simon Rattle’s Berlin recording of Ravel’s L’Enfant et les Sortilèges and as the soloist in Jonathan Nott’s performance of Mahler Four. In this, her first solo album, she seems perfectly matched to the Classical-period repertoire. Her smallish voice is flexible and pure-toned and she makes good use of vibrato for dramatic purposes, singing with great control, considerable beauty and an obvious awareness of character and dramatic context.  The program consists mostly of Mozart’s lighter roles. She is a pert Zerlina, but less characterful as Susanna. Even so, she manages the legato winningly in Susanna’s aria Deh vieni, non tardar. She throws herself with gusto into Tiger! Wetze nur die Klauen from Zaide, capping the aria with a ringing top D, yet draws out the line of Pamina’s aria from The Magic Flute at a slow tempo to produce a poised and heartfelt interpretation. Erdmann also sings two excerpts from Günter von Schwarzburg by Ignaz Holzbauer, an opera Mozart himself enjoyed, as well as arias by JC Bach, Paisiello and Salieri. Marcon and his “historically informed” band La Cetra play beautifully, another plus for this highly enjoyable…

For the musicians of the Australian Art Orchestra, Crossing Roper Bar is a labour of love, an evolving project that began in 2005, when they first started collaborating with musicians from Ngukurr, in Arnhem Land. This recording features just six AAO members: Paul Grabowsky (piano), Tony Hicks (saxophones, flutes, clarinets), Erkki Veltheim (viola), Stephen Magnusson (guitar), Phillip Rex (bass) and Niko Schauble (drums). They perform alongside four members of the Young Wagilak Group: Benjamin Wilfred, Roy Wilfred, David Wilfred and Wesley Wilfred, who sing or chant, beat rhythms on clapsticks or play didgeridoos. There is a constant juxtaposition of ancient and modern sounds, traditional songs and improvised forays. The five pieces on the album make for a fascinating journey, with the AAO musicians setting the scene for the entry of the Wagilak group, then variously giving them space, or offering discreetly creative accompaniment before moving into bolder ensemble passages.

Since Fela Kuti’s death in 1997, his legend has spread far and wide. Enormously popular in his native Nigeria, he has been acknowledged as one of the greatest ever stars of African music. The musical Fela!, based on his life, is now playing on the stages of Broadway and London and his back catalogue is being re-released. This introductory compilation is an excellent edited choice of 13 powerful tracks. Known for his vibrant Afrobeat rhythms and his strident political messages, Fela Kuti’s voice will stay alive and unique.

This Alexandre Desplat score was unfairly passed over for the Best Soundtrack gong at the Oscars.

In the 1990s Maria João Pires recorded all the Mozart keyboard sonatas for DG on a modern concert grand. She played with perfect balance and poise, and the sound was creamily beautiful, even in the allegros. I wouldn’t be without that set, but turn to Bezuidenhout and you’ll notice a more subtle and varied range of colours, especially at the dark end of the spectrum. The young South African pianist plays a copy of an Anton Walter fortepiano from 1802. He finds a burnished depth of tone in the middle register that really works for the plangent andante cantabile of the C major Sonata (K330). This reading is intimate and deeply felt: as much a tribute to Bezuidenhout’s focused, imaginative playing as it is to the tone of his instrument. Similarly, he launches into the finale with uninhibited joyfulness, the rasping accented bass notes delightfully brusque. He is equally deft at wringing emotion out of the chromatic turns of phrase in the minor key works. Among these are the moody Adagio in B minor, thought to be Mozart’s lament upon the death of his father. While the fortepiano’s action inevitably produces a modicum of clatter in forte passages, that is a small…