All year one wonders what 10 recordings really deserve to be included in such a list, and wonders if any potential inclusions might not be a stretch. Then, in the last few weeks, suddenly a slew of recordings, late discoveries that might have been lying about for months or weeks, force themselves upon the ears and one could easily extend the list to 20. On the ionarts website I just cheated by creating an “Almost List.” Here I will ostentatiously lament that there was no room to include Thomas Fey’s latest Haydn (Hänssler Classic), who continues his spark-plug cycle of all the Symphonies. Nor pianist Ivan Ilić’s The Transcendentalist (Heresy Records), a mesmerizing mix of beguiling Alexander Scriabin, John Cage and Morton Feldman. Nor the Chorus sine nomine’s new take on Allegri’s Miserere (Gramola), in which composer Vladimir Ivanoff and improvising saxophonist Michael Krenn allow the familiar music to arise in a new aural guise—recorded in Vienna’s Otto Wagner church with near eight seconds of reverb which become an integral part of the composition. Or the rocking Le nozze di Figaro of Theodor Currentzis’ (
And then there’s something that has only just hit my desk and struck me so hard, I was about to topple the list and make it the new first choice: The second-ever recording of Walter Braunfels’ Annunciation (on BR Klassik; the other one, on EMI, was hopelessly out of print until this year), which contains stunning music by a long-neglected greats among 20th century romantic composers, and a terrific performance to boot. Instead of squeezing it in here, I will give it due attention, as part of a little introduction of the composer, in the new year. This being enough of a preamble—here’s that outstanding stuff.
[The entire list on Amazon for CDs can be found here, and as mp3s (incomplete) here. The complete-as-possible Spotify playlist here. Links to iTunes (where available) and the high-fidelity streaming/download platform Qobuz are provided individually.]
No.1
Goose-Wonder, Picture-Revelation
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Jos van Immerseel and his period performance band Anima Eterna Brugge have never confined themselves to a specific period: Renaissance, baroque, classical and all kinds of romantic strands can be found in their concerts and discography. Their reputation as cobweb-annihilators is well deserved. Here they turn their attention to the romantic 20th century with Ravel and Musorgsky. And how! The bird calls of violin and flute in Ravel’s Ma Mère L’Oye are so life-like, so outstanding that, sitting outside a Salzburg Café on first listening, I looked about me in astonishment before realizing the feathery friend’s chirp came out of my headphones.
Ravel’s instrumentation, fantastical and imaginative, comes to the fore like I have rarely heard on record, both here and in the accompanying Pictures at an Exhibition, which are light and colorful in a hitherto-unheard-of way and all the more smashing for it, when it counts. The woodwind work throughout is astounding; the delicacy and transparency of brass and strings overwhelming. The CD is worth, perhaps even necessary, to hear with quality equipment to let the recording work to this breathtaking effect. This Mother Goose is a wonder, the Pictures, now my co-favorite Pictures alongside the completely different Celibidache (Warner, ex-EMI), a revelation.
No.2
The Power of the Well-Prepared Piano
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I knew Thomas Larcher as a pianist, primarily from one of my very favorite piano recordings, the Three Piano pieces of both Schubert and Schoenberg (ECM). Now, a little late to the party, I know him as a composer, too—with a release that has gripped and fascinated upon first listening as much as it does now, a good dozen times later. Thomas Larcher writes in the (excellent and funny) liner notes that he “had wanted for a long time to get away from the piano’s natural sound… Over time I associated this sound… with a sense of something… obsolete, at a dead-end.”
What doesn’t bode well—if you’ve ever heard a modern work in which a violin is stroked on the rim of a pasta pot (not that I have; I’m exaggerating for effect), you know what I mean about gratuitously using instruments against their intended ways—turns out most delightful. A well-prepared piano still works along the lines inherent to the nature of its sound-production (whereas amplified power-drilling into one of its legs might not be such an "inherent way") and brings out its nature as the percussion instrument it is. So much about the whimsy and feisty two opening short pieces entitled Smart Dust, music that appeals like the most accessible of John Cage rubbing up to Gia Kancheli (if that is helpful).
After that, Larcher turns back to the conventional piano, the Poems and the Leif Ove Andsnes-inspired and Tamara Stefanovich-performed What Becomes. The opening of “Frida falls asleep” (Poems) has all the catchiness of a Van Halen riff and on a dime it turns into meditative mood that would befit Erik Satie. Both works prove to be lyrically seductive, contemplative, and occasionally ardent. These insinuated qualities are also plenty present in the real heart of the disc, the Padmore Cycle song-cycle (curiously commissioned by the Alois Lageder winery, not a concert venue or performer), as are neat dissonances and strewn-in shards of anguish. Tenor Mark Padmore throws himself into ‘his’ cycle with his typical abandon and artistry; tasteful even in the extremes and by sheer conviction always staying well clear of the naff. The result is modern, yes, but not abrasive but instead wholly absorbing in a way that is easier to feel than to understand.
No.3
Romantic Precision to the Scaffold and Beyond
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Tender, halting, tip-toeing, and then socking the listener with a lightning-quick straight left and the occasional gnarling brassy, timpani-thwacking right to the ribs. Bone dry and pointed, detailed and precise, this is a very different Symphonie fantastique from the souped-up romanticism one gets from many a famous recording. Listening to that recording makes you stop wondering how Mariss Jansons could have forgone his conductorship with the Concertgebouw Amsterdam in favor of focusing solely on his Munichers. In the much appreciated added bonus of Edgar Varèse’s Ionisation, the 13 player strong percussion ensemble is just showing off what precision really means. Now just imagine what that orchestra could do if it was finally given a proper hall to perform in?!
No.4
Stirring Depths from Estonia
It’s lovely for two recordings (see Choice No.2) with such very well written, accessible-yet-uncompromising contemporary works to come out in on year and so easily make this list. Erkki-Sven Tüür’s Piano Concerto and Seventh Symphony (mawkishly dedicated to the Dalai Lama, paid for by the Frankfurt RSO and Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra; both, then, led by Paavo Järvi) were on it immediately from first hearing, very early on in the year. In the concerto (with soloist Laura Mikkola), the piano runs and percussion accompaniment not only remind of a jazz session, the section also develops a compelling groove that makes me involuntarily bop along and tap my foot. Yet, for all Tüür’s usage of the jazz- idiom, he never even hints at cross-over. This is an element that the long last movement of the Seventh Symphony picks up on, intermittently, tumbling and rumbling before coming to a reflective, calmer end. Unreadable, jargon-y liner notes, sadly, but otherwise a humdinger of a new release for everyone interest in (classical) music with a pulse that actually invites, not forbids, listening.
No.5
Waltzing with the Birds
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The fifth release of the Vienna Symphony Orchestra’s is also their first interesting new release, after two historic gems (Celibidache, Giulini) and twice Mahler with Fabio Luisi. In fact it’s more than interesting, it’s absolutely, positively delightful: Manfred Honeck performs an ostensibly light program of Strauss Polkas and Waltzes (mostly Johann, but also four by his brothers Eduard and Josef). The result is slightly more wistful, and sometimes more rustic than one might expect, and bird-whistles (as per the score) are liberally included. Manfred Honeck, forced to learn the dreadfully uncool zither when he was a teen, has a knack for the rhythms that allows him a never-facile ease that reminds of me Carlos Kleiber conducting Strauss.
No.6
Lusty and Clamoring
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It’s impossible to pin one of these two Gottfried August Homilius releases down as better than the other, so I treat them as one: whichever one is playing so sparkles with enthusiasm and glorious late high baroque gorgeousness, that it catapults the Dresden composer to the pinnacle of Cantata / Motets genre (accepting Bach as running hors concours). It makes us question why we only really think of Bach in the genre in the first place, when there are gems like Homilius (1714-1785) to be had. What considerably helps is that Homilius can’t be tagged with the “Gallant” label that makes life difficult for many of Bach’s own sons. (Understandably so, more often than not.) Part of the Carus label’s “Music from Dresden” series, these releases contain entire worlds of musical joy and even months after initial listening, I still have the catchy tunes of Homilius happily stuck in my head. (Actually: The cantatas are more fun, if I had to pick one. It’s just that I don’t.)
No.7
Non-Violent Machine Gun Fire
Early Schubert symphonies are just a soupçon of tedium away from being boring. Wildness, youthful jubilance, brilliance and a good timpani thwacking are all necessary ingredients and it’s not surprising that (early) Schubert is being well served by early music and chamber ensembles: They are tuned to vitality and happy to go for the jugular. The Freiburg Baroque Orchestra (with Pablo Heras-Casado, Harmonia Mundi) tackles the Third and Fourth in their typical top-notch style, punching holes in the score, though perhaps even overdoing the drive in the Third: Frans Brüggen and the Orchestra of the 18th Century (
No.8
Neapolitan Gallantries
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Countertenor Francoa Fagioli, whom I heard as a wonderful Andronico in the 2012 performance of Handel’s Tamerlano and whose outings on the Carus-label (Teseo, Canzone e Cantate) I have enjoyed well enough, has made a disc comprised of the best arias that Nicola Porpora (1686-1768) ever penned. I have a funny feeling it’s awfully good of him to spare us the other bits of this completely-unknown-except-perhaps-as-a-historic-voice-teacher-in-the-early-18th-century composer. On the other hand, the quality of the pieces he did opt for is astounding. At his best, this Neapolitan-style gallant-era composer seems to have written nothing but hard rocking, socking, and heart-string-pulling opera highlights that the Academia Montis Regalis under Alessandro de Marchi plays with unremitting zest. Then again, it could be Fagioli who elevates this music towards greatness. He is of a generation of counter-tenors (which also includes Philippe Jarrousky, David Hansen, Terry Wey, Xavier Sabata) whose sheer ability and complexity of timbre makes them transcend the early-music specialist niche. When my step-father, reasonably classical music loving but frankly on the unadventurous side, walked in on my listening to the Porpora arias, I expected him to flinch. Instead he perked notably, inquired what I was listening to, commented on how beautiful it was, and lamented my unwillingness to part with the disc. Back in Salzburg I admired Fagioli’s wide timbered voice with a particularly good lower register but cautioned that looking at his grimacing made him a dramatic liability. He has only added quality to his impressive voice since, and on CD you can’t see him anyway. That makes this disc an easy and simply gorgeous inclusion in this list.
No.9
From Russia With Blood, Sweat, and Tears
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Linus Roth’s concerto disc to follow up the complete Mieczysław Weinberg Violin Sonatas has critics raving. It became a Gramophone Magazine Editor’s Choice with David Fanning comparing Roth favorably to Lenoid Kogan and Maxim Vengerov, extolling the subtlety, range of color, imagination and summing it up: “In short: an outstanding disc.” In the Financial Times, Andrew Clark hones in on the Britten, which he writes “has never sounded so soft, sensuous or soul-bearing—and [this disc] reveals its stature like no other.” Graham Rickson from the artsdesk.com fawns “if any performer can popularize the [Weinberg concerto] it has to be the phenomenal Linus Roth, whose unflagging energy makes this CD one of the best concerto discs in years…[The Britten is] helped by gloriously rich, dark-toned orchestral playing…Unmissable, and recorded in sensational sound too.” I would love to say much the same about the performances (only so much: the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin—formerly RIAS—under Mihkel Kütson does play the hell out of both works), but must recuse myself, having written the liner notes. Instead I limit myself to praising the composer, who has been experiencing one of the most deserving and enduring re-discoveries over the last 15 years.
No.10
Mendelssohn-Approved
After many mid-level jobs in medium-important Dutch music institutions, Johannes Verhulst eventually became the foremost Dutch musician of his time. But as an arch-conservative whose career only kicked off when he met Mendelssohn in 1836 and subsequently studied in Leipzig, he was soon forgotten. Time to resurrect the man’s music, at least, because these late-youthful String Quartets are minor masterpieces that anyone with a hankering for classical-romantic chamber music ought to give a try. They were Mendelssohn-supervised, approved and dedicated to him—and you can hear it. Schumann reviewed and loved them, too, and chances are so will you, because the Utrecht String Quartet delivers lively Allegros, wistful Adagios, cogent Scherzos, in delicate, elegant and simply very, very good performances.
