Dawn Upshaw - Esa-Pekka Salonen KAIJA SAARIAHO La Passion de Simone

Kaija Saariaho is a prominent member of a group of Finnish composers and performers who are now, in mid-career, making a worldwide impact. She studied composition in Helsinki, Freiburg and Paris, where she has lived since 1982. Her studies and research at IRCAM have had a major influence on her music and her characteristically luxuriant and mysterious textures are often created by combining live music and electronics. Although much of her catalogue comprises chamber works, from the mid-nineties she has turned increasingly to larger forces and broader structures, such as the operas L’Amour de loin and Adriana Mater and the oratorio La Passion de Simone.

I have been reading Simone Weil’s writings since my youth. The Finnish translation of her book Gravity and Grace was one of the few things I packed into my suitcase when I travelled to Germany in 1981 to continue my studies in composition. Later, I began to read her writings in the original French and also learned more about her life.

The combination of Weil’s severe asceticism and her passionate quest for truth has appealed to me ever since I first read her thoughts. La passion de Simone was specifically the result of collaboration with Amin Maalouf and Peter Sellars; together we chose the different parts of Weil’s work and life for the libretto before I began composing. Whereas I have always been fascinated by Simone’s striving for abstract (mathematical) and spiritual-intellectual goals, Peter is interested in her social awareness and political activities. Amin brought out the gaping discrepancy between her philosophy and her life, showing the fate of the frail human being amongst great ideas. In addition to Simone Weil’s life and ideas, many general questions of human existence are presented in Amin’s text.

La Passion consists of 15 stations. The idea for the form of the text and the entire work came from the Passion play tradition. This outer form is, however, the only similarity to the traditional oratorio, at least in my opinion. The 15 movements are different in character and structure, and they shed light on different moments in Simone Weil’s life and interpret some of her ideas. The soprano has the crucial role of the narrator. Weil’s own texts are presented in the electronics surrounding the audience. The choir and orchestra create the world in which live both the soprano part and the spoken words in the electronics part.

La Passion de Simone is dedicated to my children Alex and Aliisa.
(Kaija Saariaho)

Viktoria Mullova - Ottavio Dantone BACH Concertos

From the end of the 16th century, musicians and theoreticians perfected a system of codes for expression and composition that contributed to the spread of a shared language. It was common practice to adapt musical scores to the players and instruments available on any given occasion.

Bach’s music lends itself particularly well to such adaptation: his works are so structurally and conceptually perfect that they transcend sound and timbre. Many can be played on any instrument without altering their intrinsic value. Bach was famously wont to reuse his own music in different instrumental or indeed vocal combinations.

Viktoria and I agreed that it would be interesting to focus on the practice of transcription, accompanying two original concertos, BWV 1041 and BWV 1042, with two newly transcribed compositions. We opted for the Concerto BWV 1053, written for harpsichord in E major, but reused by Bach himself in two cantatas, and probably originally intended for oboe d’amore. I immediately thought of transcribing it in D major, not only because the brighter key suits the violin, but also because its astounding central Siciliano features a glorious melody that suits the violin perfectly.

Viktoria and I, having often performed the sonatas for violin and harpsichord, were keen to find a piece we could play with orchestra. One concerto is particularly well suited to this idea, BWV 1060. The original version is for two harpsichords and strings, though Bach first drafted it for two violins, or for violin and oboe. I feel this unprecedented version works very well, enriching the composition with a range of new nuances.

Key here is not only the reality of performance, but also the underlying aesthetic concept: rigour of form and musical language, together with inventive brilliance in performance, were features of the 18th century. Once we understand exactly how and why these expressive forms came about and interacted, the entire period comes magically to life. (Ottavio Dantone)

Maria João Pires SCHUBERT

The gentle, conversational way in which Maria João Pires launches the A minor Sonata D845 immediately identifies a pianist with a deep understanding of Schubert's music and its spectrum of expression. There is an impromptu-like innocence about Pires's playing of those opening bars, as if a whim of an idea has just lighted on her. But then, as Schubert develops his material and invests it with sinew, Pires takes her cue to give a beautifully proportioned account of the first movement -- lucid, poised and intuitively describing its emotional contours. The delicate, courtly gait of the theme of the Andante is deftly caught, the ensuing variations echoing Schubert's inventiveness in pianism that is opalescent and strongly defined. The cross-currents of pulse in the scherzo are unexaggerated but lightly pointed up in such a way that their teasing emphases are subtly telling. And the happy bustle at the start of the finale unleashes a rondo that in Pires's hands strikes a miraculous balance between refreshing spontaneity and a thoroughly thought-through interpretative plan. If this all adds up to a performance that can be listened to again and again, with its colours and nuances never losing their capacity to conjure up the very essence of Schubert, the same is true of the B flat Sonata D960. The grandeur of the opening is the stimulus for a performance that embraces Schubert's expansive dramatic trajectory and holds its elements of contemplation and outburst in shrewd equipoise. Pires's stillness and dignity in the slow movement are things of wonder; the scherzo and finale are magical studies of limpid finger work and refined tonal shadings. Truth to the music and Pires's personality come together on this disc to sublime effect. (Geoffrey Norris)

Andrea Oliva - Angela Hewitt BACH Flute Sonatas

Andrea Oliva has been described by Sir James Galway as “one of the best flautists of his generation”. So when Hyperion matched him with the label’s megastar Angela Hewitt for this recording of six of Bach’s solo flute sonatas, the results were bound to be special.

And special they are, from the flowing and elegant piano introduction to the E-flat BWV1031 that opens the disc, to the bubbling finale of the B Minor Sonata, the most popular work of the set. This is a recording that deserves high rotation – repeated visits will yield a trove of treasures from two performers whose styles meld together perfectly, whether it’s in the simple Siciliana from the E-Flat Sonata, surely one of the loveliest little tunes by Bach, or Oliva’s prodigious breath control and faultless fingering in the rapid-fire runs of the BWV1033 Allegro.

There is still doubt about the provenance of some of the seven flute sonatas attributed to Johann Sebastian. It’s now generally accepted that the G Minor BWV1020 – featured on this disc – was in fact written by his son Carl Philipp Emanuel, who certainly made copies of the works. (One that he attributes to his father, the C Minor also on this disc, survives in his own hand.) Other scholars believe that one of Bach the elder’s pupils may have contributed to the keyboard part of the C Minor piece. Bach’s life and works remain a rich source of speculation for academics: witness the recent theory that the Cello Suites may have been composed by Bach’s wife Anna Magdalena, not merely copied out by her. 

Whatever the case, do we really care? The music speaks for itself in all its glory. And these sonatas show the composer at his most engaging, always challenging the performer but at the same time delighting the listener. Hewitt fans – and they are legion – will be delighted at her return to Bach. Her monumental journey through his keyboard works has rightly been described as “one of the record glories of our age”.

It’s interesting to compare this recording with a recent re-release on the same label of English flautist Lisa Beznosiuk’s complete 2002 set, featuring harpsichord and cello accompaniment. That excellent recording has an air of authenticity, whereas the Oliva/Hewitt musical offering breathes freshness and exciting possibilities. It’s the difference between entering a museum and walking into an art gallery. 

(Limelight Magazine)

Julia Fischer BRUCH & DVORAK Violin Concertos

 Julia Fischer has chosen a rare and inspired coupling, the Bruch G minor and Dvořák A minor Violin Concertos. The “brilliant and musically insightful German violinist” (The New York Times) is joined by the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich and David Zinman.

Reviewing Julia Fischer’s performance of the Dvořák Concerto in London, The Guardian wrote, “Dvořák’s Violin Concerto, a romantic showpiece too often passed over in favour of Bruch and Mendelssohn, has a piquant slow movement to compete with either. Fischer made sure we heard every note, handing us each bar with absolute technical assurance and in a lustrous, seamless tone.”

Fischer points out that the two concertos have much in common: “Formally they are very similar. Both first movements start with quasi-improvised phrases, and both go into the second movement without a break. The slow movements are structurally very similar – each is of heightened importance within the concerto.” The concertos were composed approximately a decade apart and both composers sought input from the great Hungarian violinist Joseph Joachim.

Julia Fischer wished to record the concertos with the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich and David Zinman, with whom she has a special relationship. “One of my first concerts was with the Tonhalle Zürich and I first played with David Zinman in 2003. He is a very natural musician and very intelligent but in the end he simply makes music. That is a gift.” Fischer was artist-in-residence with the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich in 2009–2010. The distinctive sound of the orchestra, perfectly suited to the music of Bruch and Dvořák, is enhanced by the acoustic of their 1895 concert hall, where the concertos were recorded.

Alina Ibragimova MENDELSSOHN Violin Concertos

Felix Mendelssohn was, famously, one of the most extraordinarily precocious composing talents the world has ever seen. Presented in this new Hyperion release, alongside his well-loved mature Violin Concerto in E minor, is the earlier D minor concerto, written when he was just 13.

The soloist is young Russian star Alina Ibragimova, 2007 graduate of BBC Radio 3's New Generation Artists scheme, partnered by the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment (on period-instruments) under Vladimir Jurowski.

Ibragimova adopts a historically-informed style on her 1775 Anselmo Bellosio violin, the sound lighter than we are used to hearing in Mendelssohn's mid-19th century E minor masterpiece. But her svelte, unforced tone is just right in this context – and, with sparing use of vibrato, she conjures some beguilingly sweet tones. In the brooding opening movement she is marvellously fleet-footed, never underpowered.

Clear orchestral textures and crisp articulation heighten the intensity of the romantic sweep. The first movement brims with fervent passion – Jurowski driving forward excitingly, but also allowing space for reflection. Refreshingly, Ibragimova takes the sumptuous Andante at a genuine, gently flowing, “walking pace”, her violin singing eloquently and tenderly, followed by a daringly fast finale that she’s never in any danger of not pulling off.

Her absolute unanimity with the woodwind, which joins her in the scampering main theme, is breathtaking, and her occasional discrete use of portamento feels completely apt. This is a delightful, compelling performance from beginning to end, the equal of any in the catalogue.

The early D minor concerto, scored for string orchestra, is less distinctively Mendelssohnian, displaying, unsurprisingly, the juvenile composer's classical heritage. But it is also forward-looking – there are shades of Weber in the cloak-and-dagger stalking motif that opens the first movement.

An attractive work in its own right, Ibragimova approaches the concerto with no less commitment than the E minor, and the result is a rewarding experience. With rhythmically taught OAE strings, the folk-like dancing finale is an exhilarating ride.

Sandwiched between the two concertos is an atmospheric account of the famous Hebrides overture, Jurowski tangibly evoking romantic Highland mists and an adventurous spirit with pungent woodwind, churning cellos and majestic brass. (Graham Rogers)

Hélène Grimaud BRAHMS Concertos

 With a nod of recognition to the composer – who himself let twenty-two years go by after completing his First Piano Concerto before starting on the Second – Hélène Grimaud notes that she’s needed every bit of the fifteen years that have passed since she recorded Brahms’s First to prepare herself for recording No.2. The explanation behind the sheer length of this musical journey lies in the particularly close relationship she enjoys with the D minor Concerto which, among other things, was the first work by Brahms she ever heard. Grimaud can still clearly recall that discovery, though her feelings about it are hard to put into words: “It’s something that completely consumes you, leaving no room for anything else at all – a new universe opens up to you and you just dive right in without a second thought.”

To her, the Concerto represents life itself, our very existence: “You land right in the heart of the action of that existence and there’s no turning back”. She acknowledges that it’s a work she needs, both physically and mentally, highlighting the unadorned, uncompromising side of its nature: “It gives the impression of having been written at one sitting, even though we know that’s not the case”. With reference to the second movement, dedicated to Clara Schumann, Grimaud pinpoints one impassioned, almost prayer-like moment, which has to be played with both intellectual and emotional honesty if the truth of the work is to be brought out: “You can only truly touch an audience if you play with sincerity. Even then, there’s no guarantee, given that we all perceive things in different ways. No single performance can touch every member of an audience in exactly the same way, but at the very least that basic parameter of sincerity has to be present.”

Her relationship with the Second Piano Concerto, meanwhile, is more complex, and somewhat paradoxical. For a long time it seemed less vital to her than the First. She felt its finale, however sublime, was surplus to requirements. “If many people prefer the Second, that’s perhaps because of its intensity of expression. It looks at what life has been, what it is and what it could have been. There’s a kind of nostalgia there, as well as a slightly bitter strain of tenderness.”

Even so, the idea of never broaching the work was unthinkable. She couldn’t imagine going through life without it – because of her relationship with Brahms, an affinity dating back to her childhood. His music gives her a sense of intimacy that she simply accepts, without attempting to explain or justify it in any way.

She began work on the B flat Concerto in 2007, but it took time for her to feel completely at home with it, as she herself recalls: “I was very wary of it. It was as if I were observing both the work and myself in relation to it. There was a distance between us that wasn’t conducive to a truly successful outcome. I learned it, performed it twice, then said to myself, ‘well, mission accomplished, that’s enough for now’.”

Another five years went by before she felt irresistibly drawn to go back to the Second Concerto, and this time to embrace it fully, without reservations. And as she embarked on this new relationship, she also began to feel a similar urge to revisit the First. The thought of one without the other, of recording the Second without the First resurfacing, had become inconceivable.

And so this album project took shape. Grimaud is keen to point out, however, that she did not deliberately set out to reinterpret Concerto No.1: “That’s not the way I work. As you evolve, as you experience certain things, you filter a familiar piece of music t

hrough your new experiences and encounters. In some ways your interpretation changes, in others it stays the same. It’s the idea of reconciling opposites.”

She recorded Concerto No.1 with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and No.2 with the Vienna Philharmonic – her first recording with this prestigious orchestra – both led by Andris Nelsons, a conductor she greatly admires, and with whom she has a strong fellow-feeling. She pays him tribute, saying, “You sense that musicians would do anything for him. I spoke earlier about the essential role played by intellectual honesty when you’re performing, and that’s true here as well. There’s a purity about him which I think inspires a different reaction from his musicians … He has intensity, musical intelligence and a sense of freedom, but there’s also something that emanates from him which has to do with instinct and that purity of intent – and it makes you want to give your all.”

(Jean-Michel Dhuez)