Thelonious Monk * The Complete Prestige Recordings * 1952-1954 (plus 1944) * reissued 2000

 

[ Note: when I first wrote this, I thought all of the Monk/Prestige Boxes were like mine. Turns out this deluxe box is more rare than I thought - most of them are in more standard cardboard sleeves. - E.S. ] 

Reviewing a set like this is a different sort of task. It isn't like helping readers determine which Vaughan Williams or Beethoven symphonies are worth having in their collection. As far as I'm concerned, it's a basic truth that if Monk recorded it, it's worth having. You don't need me for that. I mean, imagine having access to studio recordings of Erik Satie's works performed, with great sound, by the composer himself? That's closer to the parallel. Monk is so great, and so important, he doesn't need my endorsement. So the questions become about the merits of this reissue, not the musical quality of the contents, which are unquestioned.  

This box collects everything Thelonious Monk recorded on the Prestige label, including the four lead tunes on disc one, which date from 1944, documenting Monk as a sideman for Coleman Hawkins. After them, the discs cover material issued on five 10-inch LPs with Monk as leader, and a couple with Miles Davis leading the sessions. They are as follows: 

Thelonious Monk Trio: Thelonious (Prestige PrLP 142)

Thelonious Monk Quintet Blows for LP/featuring Sonny Rollins (Prestige PrLP 166) 

Thelonious Monk Quintet (with Frank Foster and Art Blakey) (Prestige PrLP 180)

Thelonious Monk Plays (with Percy Heath and Art Blakey) (Prestige PrLP 189)

Sonny Rollins and Thelonious Monk (Prestige PrLP 190)

Miles Davis: Bags Groove (Prestige, 1954)

Miles Davis and the Modern Jazz Giants (Prestige, 1954)

As mentioned in Peter Keepnews' detailed and informative notes, it's unfortunate Monk had to play a slightly out of tune piano for some of his earlier dates here and, okay, Sonny Rollins has a pretty chirpy reed for some of his work on 'Think of One', but you know what? Who cares. You need these recordings. The real question is whether this particular set is worth it. 

My answer is a resounding yes. First issued in 2000, the sound was mastered in analog 20-bit K2 Super Coding. Now I don't know what much of that means, but my ears tell me it's incredible - retaining all the depth and clarity you'd want from vintage recordings like these.    

The box is made of sturdy, heavy cardboard. Mine pictured here is a decade old, and still looks new. I wish I could say the same for every box on my shelf. There's no clasp, nor any box top slid over the bottom - instead, it locks shut by an imbedded magnet (see photo below).

 

The chamber holding three stylishly decorated jewel boxes is supplemented with a ribbon, for ease of extraction. This set was beautifully designed. 

Besides the benefit of having physical hard copies of this important music (including the first recordings of 'Blue Monk', 'Think of One', and several other Monk compositions), this set features a booklet loaded with technical information, recording dates, artwork, photos, and a detailed history of Monk's Prestige years by the aforementioned Peter Keepnews. It's more of a mini-documentary than mere liner notes. This is ultimately why I try to collect as many retrospectives as possible - downloads and streams are almost universally without the history or context. This Prestige box is exceptional in terms of sound, sturdiness, presentation, and historical content. 

I'm not sure if the box is still in print, but the way things are going, we might all be forced to streaming soon. If you don't have one, get a copy soon.  

 

CD Box Review: Bryden Thomson * London Symphony Orchestra * The Nine Symphonies of Vaughan Williams * Chandos 1987-1990

 

Will we remember the late '80s and early '90s as the Golden Age of Vaughan Williams recordings? It's possible. At the time no less than five conductors and orchestras were recording the cycle. EMI was simultaneously recording Vernon Handley with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic and Bernard Haitink with the London Philharmonic. Andrew Davis was recording for Teldec with the BBC Symphony, Leonard Slatkin with the Philharmonia for RCA. 

Chandos joined the fray with Bryden Thomson conducting the London Symphony Orchestra - a cycle completed very quickly between 1987 and 1990, and now reissued by the Musical Heritage Society (which is my pictured set). And what a splash they made in the game! Some swear by this as the definitive RVW cycle, and listening to A Sea Symphony (No 1) it's difficult to disagree. The LSO is phenomenal, the soloists Yvonne Kenny (soprano) and Brian Rayner Cook (baritone) are excellent. The LSO choir delivers like few others - handling the huge climaxes with apocalyptic intensity, but the gentler moments with the intimacy of a cantata or serenade. 

This set was recorded in St Jude's Church, Central Square, London. It might be the only RVW cycle to be recorded in a church, and the acoustics are clearly different than any of those previously recorded (so often in Kingsway Hall or No 1 Studio of Abbey Road). I was skeptical at first - many church recordings are too tubby and unwieldy (von Karajan's Schumann cycle with Berlin in the early 1970s comes to mind. A lot of great music making happened at those sessions, but the textures seem difficult to discern). St Jude's seems to have been an ideal place, though - making this a unique cycle for the floating and massive sound Thomson and the LSO achieve. 

All the RVW cycles from this era are top notch - the orchestras are technically brilliant, in tune, and the conductors shape the music well. So it comes down to a matter of personal preference. 

When I first started reviewing Vaughan Williams cycles, I had no idea that the symphony most likely to be disappointing would be A London Symphony (No 2). But that's definitely been the case. Neither recording by Boult is very satisfying, Previn's stand alone version with the Royal Philharmonic is better than his LSO cycle, and Haitink's too uniquely still and ruminative to be considered a first recommendation ("standard") reading. Thankfully, Bryden Thomson and the London Symphony really deliver here, shaping a majestic reading, filled with knowledge of the performance traditions of the piece. The scherzo is a bit slower than most, perhaps owing to the recording venue (we'll see how the acoustics effect the tempi as the cycle goes along) and lacks a little jauntiness as a result. The fourth movement epilogue is wonderful though. A stately march, the orchestra filling the space richly, and an ending that touches the mystical vein all RVW's symphonies must eventually reach.  

The microphone placement sounds different for the Pastoral Symphony (No 3). In particular, the woodwind section sounds much closer. This piece really needs to focus on the winds, so this makes sense - and no other details are lost. In fact, some of the string gestures are captured here better than on any other recording. Thomson highlights more of the undulating effects, and doesn't just drive right over them - the Chandos sound here is amazing for detail and space. The first movement is unique in that Thomson doesn't highlight the violin lines to anywhere near the degree other conductors do - we hear everything going on beneath the surface. This is well worth listening to - and for conductors to consider. So much interesting music happens here, too often obscured.  

The second movement follows suit, with beautiful horn, oboe, and clarinet work. Once again giving lighter emphasis on the violins, the musical landscape becomes more visible. This is very detailed music, but takes the cultivation of multiple lines weaving in and out, commenting on each other. Overbearing violins can cover that up - here, they provide a beautiful sheen. Nothing is lost in the importance of their lines, but everything else is gained: this is true ensemble playing. The natural trumpet solo, which is the symbolic centerpiece of the movement, is played with nobility and an aching final note, just flat of tempered pitch (as the composer wanted). It is great to hear the flute lines after this movement, handed off to the bassoons, in ways we rarely do. The natural horn solo follows the same contour as the trumpet, with those subdued violins getting the last, hushed word. 

The third movement is treated more crisply. This is the least ham-fisted of Pastorals I've heard to this point. Thomson has the tympani playing a commenting role at times, rather than always "supporting" and it really is illuminating. The interplay of harp, flute, bass section near the end of the movement is really unprecedented. Once again this is great ensemble playing. The diversity of sounds and ideas are more apparent. The final coda is more organic and formally satisfying here than elsewhere - each of the choices Thomson made about texture especially, but also articulation and tempi, are justified by this final result. 

Yvonne Kenney returns for the wordless soprano on the fourth movement, and is persistent yet light - a melodious strength. Thomson's Lento fourth movement hints towards the dance and has a lighter, ever so slightly quicker step than others. He maintains his commitment to the orchestra beneath the violins, and gains extraordinary results. I've always said Boult's EMI recording has been my standard, but this might be my new favorite. There is no doubt we simply hear more of the score with Thomson and the LSO. At the big "crying out" unison moment of the finale, the LSO get an almost vocal quality, like the best of Russian string sections in Tchaikovsky 6. Kenny finishes the piece sounding like a young woman walking a country road, singing to herself, innocently, of grief she might not yet even realize is coming. A fitting memorial, as Vaughan Williams intended it, to all who endured the Great War. 

Symphony in F minor (No 4):  By this point, I'm starting to understand what I really love most about this cycle - the LSO plays with a relaxed confidence and a willingness to just let it rip - almost like the great American orchestras of the mid to late 20th century (NYP under Bernstein, Chicago under Solti, etc). This piece opens with that lyrical, monumental quality also heard in Boult and Previn, but it gets violent soon enough! The second movement opens with a real snarl and is played dramatically. Thomson highlights the melody over the contrapuntal interest - he's one of the few conductors to take this approach, and it's convincing. The horns in the scherzo are brilliantly, thrillingly savage. The rhythmic emphasis and intensity of the brass in this movement are awesome! And what an arrival for the fourth movement! No sense of pulling back - a perfect tempo. You have to give this one a listen. There is a difference between passionate risk taking and ragged playing - Bernstein and Solti achieved great results through this sort of risk taking - you don't quibble about details when they gave a great performance. This recording of the 4th is like that. I'm not saying it's ragged - it isn't - but it lives on the edge like few other recordings of the F minor.

I won't go into detail about the Symphony in D major (No 5) except to say I rank it with Handley and Haitink as one of the finest renditions of the piece. What it has going for it, differently than those two, is Thomson's whole approach with the LSO - which comes off as confident, relaxed, and really allowing the musicians to play. I have no idea if that's what the session felt like to the musicians, but it sure comes off that way. This seems like fresh music that the ensemble believes in and is free just to sing.

Everything I mention in the earlier symphonies is present in the Symphony No 6 in E minor  too. Great ensemble playing, risk taking that always pays off, direction that frees the players rather than harnessing them: bold and brassy in a way conductors usually don't perform Vaughan Williams. In fact, the big brass moments sound more like Holst than Brahms, as they should. I could repeat the sort of writing from above, and analyze the score in depth, but why? It's maybe the greatest recording of the piece. It's the only recording of the 6th I can remember where the final notes sound consoling, enduring, and even quietly heroic. 

This Sinfonia Antartica is probably the finest recorded - at least of the many versions I've heard. My one reservation is the scherzo, which I found too slow (as with Handley's), but there can be no denying the detail and sounds captured in Thomson's reading. As with the earlier Pastoral Symphony, we simply hear more of the actual music. Piano parts buried in other recordings, all of the very chilling sound affects that make this an aural world like no other, and became a treasure trove for great film composers to come - this sounds like no piece you've ever heard, even if you've heard both Boult versions, Previn, Slatkin, Haitink, Bakels, Barbirolli, Handley - none of them capture what Thomson does with the LSO. Even the wind machine sounds more like wind, less like a sheet being spun. The organ of St Jude's is warmer and therefore less imposing than other versions, but who cares? If you want to hear the actual piece, in all it's glory, you have to have this record. 

Just listen to Symphony No 8 in D minor. Thomson's is one of the best, at least in the first two movements, for all the reasons listed above regarding the other symphonies. The third movement gets a little pitchy, and the fourth a little savage, but what the heck? The ending delivers with the appropriate cacophony.  

Symphony No 9 in E minor rounds out this remarkable cycle with majesty and power. The ending is more cataclysmic than others - more sudden and shocking. A worthy ending to a most shockingly great set. 

 

Bottom line: Until this past week, I'd never listened to this RVW cycle. Now, it might be my all time favorite. Whatever the future holds, it will be in the rotation regularly. I don't believe you can do better for a single set. Highly recommended. 

 

Two Ormandy Recordings of Tchaikovsky 6 - a review

 

The Philadelphia Orchestra 

Eugene Ormandy, conductor

Columbia, 1960 (cover photo by Dan Weiner)

After decades of devotion to Soviet era Russian recordings of the Tchaikovsky symphonies, this morning I decided to give another listen to two versions of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No 6 ('Pathetique') made by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra. The first was for Columbia in 1960, the second for RCA in 1969.

The Columbia recording was my first exposure to the piece as a boy: the photo above is of the very LP spun by me back in 1984 - and again this morning. 

Before I get into this recording, though, a confession: when I first heard Evgeny Mravinsky's Tchaikovsky 4, 5, and 6 as a grad student in the late '90s, the experience blew me away and swept every other set of records out of my mind for a very long time. I'd never heard such musical extremism in tempi, dynamics, feeling - every drop of Russian blood in my veins responded! It was like finding a lost heritage! From there I dove into the world of old Russian recordings with Rozhdestvensky, Svetlanov, Temirkanov, and others. Zubin Mehta's cycle with the Los Angeles Philharmonic from the 1970s remained a favorite of Western recordings, so sympathetic to Russian style and phrasing is Mehta. But I listened to very few others. Yet having recently reviewed Rostropovich's cycle with the London Philharmonic, I thought it was time to return to my first experience of these works. 

My immediately impression is that this is a recording that does great justice to the music of Tchaikovsky. Ormandy clearly knows and sympathizes with this music deeply. It's true there isn't the same musical extremism of the old Soviet era recordings, but there is a beauty of phrasing and depth of feeling equally as satisfying. There's no fussiness here, no over-conducting - the music unfolds just as it should. Ormandy's tempi seem perfect - everything expressed right in place. The third movement march has a stateliness that is almost entirely lost if taken too fast, for instance. The Philadelphia Orchestra sounds relaxed and able to give everything needed. The strings have that soaring quality so few orchestras got regularly, but that I associate with Ormandy's Philadephia recordings and Szell's with Cleveland of the same era - it's something you miss if you don't hear it every once in a while. 

The opening bassoon solo is played with feeling and nuance, and all of the winds and brass follow suit for the rest of the piece. Particularly warm are the french horns, and the clarinet playing is charged with subtle depth. Listen to the interior movement of the wind soloist's sound - this is more than playing in tune or in time, but a singing inner fluctuation that gives the phrase its meaning. Unfortunately, this is becoming more rare in symphonic playing these days - I wouldn't call it a lost art, but it might be if it's not recognized and talked about more often. This orchestra digs in and attacks when needed, but does everything from a place of purpose and expression.         

The RCA session dates from 1969, and was recorded at the Academy of Music in Philadelphia. Mine is a CD re-release from the late 1990s. It might be unfair to compare the two, vinyl and CDs being a kind of apples to oranges situation, but what the heck. Of the two recordings, I prefer the 1960 Columbia LP. There is a depth of sound and an even more concise expression in terms of phrasing. It just seems a richer, more natural performance. Both do justice to the music, but that Columbia record is my recommendation.  

CD Box Review: Sir Adrian Boult's EMI cycle of Vaughan Williams Symphonies

 

Sir Adrian Boult, conductor

London Philharmonic Orchestra (Symphonies 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9)

New Philharmonia Orchestra (Symphonies 3,4, 6)

London Philharmonic Choir

Sheila Armstrong, soprano  John Carol Case, baritone

Margaret Price, soprano   Norma Burrowes, soprano 

In the late 1960s, Sir Adrian Boult returned to Kingsway Hall (Nos 1, 2,3,7,8, & 9) Abbey Road Studio 1 (Nos 4 & 6) and Wembley Town Hall (No 5) to record the Vaughan Willaims symphonies for EMI with the London Philharmonic and the New Philharmonia Orchestra. This was to be all in stereo, as contrasted to his first cycle, for Decca and Everest, which was nearly all in mono. 

You'd think this would be better in just about every way, technically, but it opens a bit roughly. A Sea Symphony (No 1) lacks the youthful exuberance of Boult's Decca version. At times the choir sags in pitch, most disappointingly at some early climactic points. John Carol Case's singing has always struck me as too stylized and saccharine, and does here. There are so many great baritones who have given their voices to this, and while his volume is there, there isn't enough depth of feeling or strength. He sings very prettily, but I just don't believe he's "on the beach at night alone" when he sings it. 

A London Symphony (No 2) is the real disappointment of the set. The intonation of the London Phil is just plain bad at times. The flat clarinet solo in the second movement is cringeworthy. Sometimes it seems the orchestra is rushing to catch Sir Adrian's beat; other times they fall back fearing they were ahead. It's nervous, uncomfortable playing in spots where it should exude beauty. This one is a real shame, as the sound quality for the Decca release was probably the worst of that cycle and we don't get a great London from Boult here either. 

But just when we might think all is lost, we get a Pastoral Symphony (No 3) for the ages. This is a beautiful recording of the New Philharmonia Orchestra - maybe my favorite ever made of this important work. Nowhere else does Boult sound more as though the music is being spontaneously created, shimmering into a unified whole. Margaret Price's wordless soprano in the fourth movement has the proper tension and poignancy.     

From that point on, this cycle really improves. The Symphony in F minor (No 4) is even better than his Decca recording. Once again with the New Philharmonia Orchestra, we get a really beautifully recorded and realized version. It's not as polished or virtuosic as later recordings by Handley, Slatkin, or Haitink, but it's a great ride - aggressive, monumental, confident and swaggering. 

The London Philharmonic is back for the Symphony in D major (No 5), the only of this set recorded at Wembley Town Hall. It's not without problems - there remain some frustrating errors of execution - the clarinets are late on their first entrance of movement 1, for example, and once again the ensemble has intonation issues. It's hard to believe this was the same orchestra that only a year or so later recorded The Pilgrim's Progress with such near perfection. The interpretation of the piece is great here, but the execution once again falls short in many places.  

By contrast, Symphony No 6 in E minor - with the New Philharmonia - is brilliant. His first with Decca was too, but the added stereo sound makes this one a winner. 

Maybe the biggest shocker of the set? Sinfonia Antartica (No 7) recorded with the London Philharmonic in Kingsway Hall. The very opening might not be as breathtaking as Boult's mono recording - there seems to be a balance problem at the beginning climaxes of the prelude - too much of the inner voices of the trombones, not enough strings. But it's still a brilliant, heroic interpretation - maybe the finest I've ever heard. As mentioned in my review of Haitink's cycle  the Sinfonia can be read as a pessimistic, anti-Sea Symphony. Haitink brings out all of those qualities in a very effective performance. Boult does not, however, and I believe this recording is proof he understood the Sinfonia Antartica as well as anyone ever has. In his hands, the piece is heroic. 

There are many decisions to make when performing this massive work, and one of the most important is who is asked to sing the wordless soprano part. Should it sound creepy? Otherwordly? Most recordings go in that direction. But here we have Sir Adrian's Secret Weapon of Awesomeness: Norma Burrowes. Her floating voice does sound a bit otherworldy, but never creepy - it's more of a siren's song crossed with the keening of widows (such as she also recorded in Vaughan Williams's opera, Riders to the Sea). The rest of the piece is delivered with beauty, majesty, drama, making it not so much pessimistic but a memento mori symphony. I think all conductors should study this recording.

Symphony No 8 in D minor is on the whole better than his first version for Decca (which was also in stereo) but it just doesn't seem to be a work he captured well in recording. The finale is downright uninspired. I've actually seen a live performance on YouTube of Boult conducting this symphony is more vigorous. Having said that, the Symphony No 9 presented here might be even better than the world premiere recording, so meaningfully captured on Everest. It seems that in the years between, Sir Adrian came to conclusions about texture and mood that make this a very satisfying reading of an emotionally challenging and complex work. My favorite still remains Haitink's, but this interpretation is very good too.

In conclusion, there are major highs and lows for this set. The stereo sound is, on the whole, superior to the mostly mono of the Decca/Everest cycle, and some of the interpretations are the best ever by Boult - especially the Pastoral, F minor, and Sinfonia Antartica. 6 and 9 are also excellent, so the cycle is very good. But if I had to choose between this and Boult's first RVW cycle, it would be Decca: first, because the composer was there at the recording sessions for symphonies 1-8 and second, overall there just aren't the same ups and downs of quality in performance.    

CD Review: Benny Goodman * The Complete RCA Victor Small Group Recordings

[Originally published on May 22, 2013 on The Jazz Clarinet blog]

The Benny Goodman Quartet of the late 1930's is no stranger to those familiar with The Jazz Clarinet. The importance of the group socially, and the uncanny sense, from the start, that these musicians had been born to play together, will no doubt serve as important recurring thematic material for many posts to come. The influence of the group, the reunion and tribute gigs that it has inspired, and the silver screen depiction of its now mythic beginnings can obscure the retrospectively surprising fact that the Quartet itself, comprised of Goodman, Gene Krupa, Teddy Wilson, and Lionel Hampton, was only together for a total of nine recording sessions beginning on August 21, 1936, and concluding on December 29, 1937. Twenty-six tunes (not counting alternate versions) are its entire studio legacy. In one of the truly blessed coincidences that does not often grace the history of recorded jazz, they were all made by RCA Victor,  and can be heard on what is arguably, along with Artie Shaw's Gramercy 5 Sessions, the most important set of jazz clarinet recordings ever made. Even more fortunate for those of us wanting a complete picture of this ensemble, much more than the Quartet is captured on this three disc box: from the first sessions Benny did with Teddy Wilson in 1935, to the dissolution of the group in 1939, the entire journey is captured.

A fortuitous meeting between Goodman and Wilson at a party hosted by Red Norvo resulted in a recording date the next morning, July 13, 1935, which yielded "Body & Soul", "After You've Gone", "Who?" and "Someday, Sweetheart" (Collier, pp 138-39). The uptempo numbers were impressive in their day, demonstrating what Gunther Schuller identified as Goodman's "unprecedented virtuosity as a jazz clarinetist" ( Schuller, p.11). "After You've Gone", especially, was to be revived and recorded repeatedly by Goodman, becoming a showpiece for his trademark arpeggio-driven style. But the more important contributions to the session were the slower numbers. "Body & Soul" was to become a calling card for Goodman and Wilson: the sincerity and lack of pretentiousness with which they continuously delivered this tune belies the network of subtle techniques employed by both men. It is impossible to think of two other musicians delivering a convincing imitation of this performance, though countless players have tried. "Someday, Sweetheart" is generally overlooked, but a perfect example of what Schuller astutely pointed out when he identified Goodman as the first major "cool" player in jazz history (p.11).

The cool aspect of Goodman's style is often obscured by his technical dominance, but remains the key to understanding his enduring appeal and permanent value to jazz history. The ballads recorded by the Small Groups have rarely been equalled. Ultimately, we can't answer this most basic of questions: What is the mysterious quality that enabled Goodman to play "Moonglow", "Body & Soul", "Where or When", "The Man I Love", and "More Than You Know", almost entirely without embellishment, yet with inimitable depth and emotion? The answer to this riddle can't be found in the notes of a transcription, nor in melodic or harmonic analysis. Like Miles Davis two decades later, Goodman had a musical presence, a true sound, that enabled him to play even a single note with great meaning and emphasis. Of all aspects of Goodman's playing, this is to me the most important, and it is this quality which, in my opinion, sets him apart from all others.

Personally speaking, this aspect of Goodman's playing has been with me for as long as I have played the clarinet. As a boy, I began by transcribing Goodman ballads--years before I'd ever seen a Rose Etude or the Klose book, I was playing "Moonglow" and "Memories of You." At age thirteen I even played "Memories of You" over WNEW, accompanied by Steve Allen on piano (it didn't dawn on me until years later how unique an experience it would be--playing Benny's part with the man who had also played Benny). Since then, I've studied many other musicians' ballad styles, and remain especially drawn to Artie Shaw, Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane. While all of those musicians, and many others, are rightfully considered masters of the ballad form, none of them, in my estimation, are as difficult to copy as Benny Goodman. And no recordings of Benny are more important than these sides by Victor.

Beyond the ballads and the up tempo numbers, there is a third category represented here that Benny deserves to be remembered for: the Blues. Thanks to Lionel Hampton, we are treated with three absolutely essential blues cuts: "Vibraphone Blues", "The Blues in Your Flat" and "The Blues in My Flat." On these Benny gives a clinic--he is alternately biting, mellow, brooding, supportive, assertive, immense, piercing, and conciliatory. He resists the temptation for technical display, opting for pure, unpretentious soul, and leaves the listener paradoxically satisfied and wanting more, simultaneously.

Finally, these discs contain an important moment of klezmer/swing fusion with a double-sided release of "Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen", complete with Martha Tilton vocal and Ziggy Elman trumpet solo. Like Shaw's last Gramercy 5 sessions, the full scope of Goodman's jazz genius is on display on this set. Originally remastered and released on CD in 1997, these are now available for download. The CDs are getting scarce, which is a shame, considering the exceptionally good liner notes by Loren Schoenberg, who gives historical background for each of the recording sessions.

Benny Goodman: The Complete RCA Victor Small Group Recordings receives my highest recommendation for any serious listeners collection. 

 

CD Review: Benny Goodman * The Complete 1937 Madhattan Room Broadcasts * Viper Records (1995)

 

 

Once upon a time, there was a six disc box set of Benny Goodman's 1937 broadcasts from the Madhattan Room of the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York City, available at your local Borders Books & Music. Now Borders is defunct, and the old boxes (put out by Viper's Nest Records in 1995) have been scattered to the winds--the only way to get your hands on them is to piece the set together one volume at a time. For those willing to hunt through Amazon or eBay, though, it's worth it.

These recordings give a rare glimpse of Benny's greatest band after hours. Unlike the prime time "Camel Caravan" broadcasts, with their carefully timed numbers, commercial plugs, and shtick (entertaining though much of it was), these broadcasts were unsponsored ("sustaining" radio) and the arrangements didn't need to be clipped for commercials. They routinely broadcast around midnight and give the feel of the band stretching out and winding down for the night. It can be difficult for contemporary musicians to imagine, especially in this day and age when gigs barely exist, but bands like Goodman and Shaw routinely worked six or seven days a week, with five to seven shows per day. To reach the midnight hour, with one last whirl through the arrangement book, was a nightly achievement.

This set documents twelve complete half-hour broadcasts that ran from October 13, 1937 through December--the lead up to the 1938 Carnegie Hall Concert. Harry James, Gene Krupa, Teddy Wilson, Jess Stacy, and Martha Tilton are all here, with the usual high quality results.

Of particular interest are the many charts played over the airwaves that never made it into the recording studio. A partial list:

Caravan
Whispers in the Dark
I'd Like to See Some Mo' of Samoa
Roses in December (Trio Version)
So Many Memories
Moonlight on the Highway
Stardust on the Moon
Am I Blue?
In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree
Everybody Loves My Baby
In the Still of the Night
All of Me

But for me the star of the show is the relaxed, after hours vibe. Unlike the heady, raucous BG-mania that rocks so many live recordings of the band in this era, there is minimal crowd noise. There are some special moments of audience involvement too, that wouldn't likely have happened on a Camel Caravan Broadcast. During the October 23 broadcast, for instance, there were a bunch of college students on the dance floor during a trio version of "Where or When." The young men began spontaneously singing the words to their dates. Benny kept playing the melody along with them, the chorus swelling slightly, until we can hear the young ladies gently joining in by the end, an octave higher. The tenderness, spontaneity, and warm enthusiasm of the applause that bursts out afterwards is for me the epitome of what this music is about, and why it is so important to preserve.

Because of the relaxed nature of these air checks, there are several fade outs of closing numbers, and a good deal of repeated material (a forty second "Let's Dance", for example, leads off most broadcasts). While the band lacks the pinpoint precision and some of the killer attitude that it displays on other live sets of this era, these stand out for their contrast. The liner notes by David Weiner are informative and detailed. Long out of print now, as of this writing you can still gather some of them on eBay. Get them while you still can! 

CD Box Review: Bernard Haitink * London Philharmonic * The 9 Symphonies of Vaughan Williams * EMI * 1984-2001 * Part 1: Symphonies 1-6

 

Bernard Haitink, LPO Vaughan Williams Cycle 2004 EMI release
Eric Seddon Collection

London Philharmonic Orchestra

London Philharmonic Choir

Bernard Haitink, conductor

Sheila Armstrong, soprano  Felicity Lott, soprano 

Amanda Roocroft, soprano  Ian Bostridge, tenor

Jonathan Summers, baritone

Sarah Chang, violin

I couldn't wait to get my hands on this box when it first came out in 2004. Haitink's cycle was nearly twenty years in the making, the earliest having been recorded in 1984 (Symphony No 6), the last released in 2001 (8 & 9). All were recorded in Abbey Road's Studio 1. Haitink's recording of Symphony 5 in D major was my introduction to the piece, way back in 1995. I was a graduate student in music history at the time, and before then had only heard one RVW symphony - Sir John Barbirolli's London Symphony with the Halle. While I loved that recording, it didn't inspire me to look into the rest of RVW's cycle. By contrast, Haitink's profound rendition of the fifth set me on a journey into Vaughan Williams's works that continues to this day.  

I believe Haitink to be an important interpreter of Vaughan Williams. I don't know if he set out to be deliberately unique, or if it was just the natural result of his being a Dutchman and therefore not bound to approach them in such an English way, but this is a different perspective than other cycles. I don't mean to say they lose their "Englishness" in his cycle, but there is a sense throughout these recordings that they are simply great music - not that they have to have a subset category of being great English music.  

It's astonishing to me that, considering how huge and complex a piece it is, there really aren't a bunch of lousy recordings of A Sea Symphony (No 1) out there. Like so many others, Haitink's satisfies. I'm not one who usually puts too much on the soloists - if they do the job in this piece, that's usually enough for me. But there is something different about Felicity Lott's singing in the first movement, and the way she blends, particularly at the end, with the chorus. It's a magical moment. There is a type of tranquillity that Haitink brings to Vaughan Williams's music, evident even in this first symphony - it's a quality that is becomes more pronounced as the cycle continues. Call it a living stillness at times, or a stillness without stopping. I think many musicians attempt this, but few achieve it. Some have derided this cycle as 'boring' but perhaps they aren't hearing the quiet tension, the movement below the surface of the music that Haitink reveals. These are not obvious recordings, but among the subtlest.

The choir here sounds more youthful than many recordings of the Sea Symphony. Perhaps it was. Credited are both the London Philharmonic Choir and a group called Cantelina (the Ladies Choir of the Colchester Institute of Music). There is less heavy vibrato, especially in the womens' voices - the result is a youthful freshness, and a lighter quality for what can become a very heavy piece in the wrong hands. If it didn't herald a new era of Vaughan Williams choral performance, this recording from 1989 was at least part of the sea change that paved the way for the many magnificent choral recordings of the 1990s, by many groups, featuring clarity and a youthfulness, without warbling vibrato. Here they achieve a numinous quality, similar to what we hear in the later Sancta Civitas. The ending moved me as much as any other great recording of the piece - be it Boult or Previn, or whomever - giving an odd, beautiful sense of safety amidst exploration (something VW would not always express, but certainly did here). Haintink's version is among the very best.     

A London Symphony (No 2) is the most accessible and 'normal' of the nine symphonies of Vaughan Williams for those who like big tunes and romantic sounding orchestration - it fits into the idea of 'nationalist' symphonies of the late 19th and early 20th century quite well, and is therefore a great introduction to his music. Haitink is once again unique for his sense of stillness at the beginning. This isn't music to listen to while driving to work or going for a walk - you'll find it boring if you do. Only sitting and listening carefully reveals the tension under the surface. I think it rewards that sort of listening, but my guess is that this is better for the seasoned Vaughan Williams fan - not a first exposure. As I suggested with Rostropovich's Tchaikovsky Cycle with this same orchestra a decade earlier, this is one to have as a contrasting interpretation, among more standard options like Boult, Previn, Handley, and Slatkin. Listen to the end of the epilogue, though. If anything proves RVW is not merely a 'nationalist' composer, but on to something more fundamental to the human soul, it's this ending of A London Symphony. Haitink lingers right to the edge of RVW's musical vision, allowing us to peer with him. 

Paired with this symphony on Disc 2 is the Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis. Haitink reveals glorious, ruminative music of shimmering textures and shades of meaning. 

Haitink's great strength as an interpreter of Vaughan Williams reveals itself more fully in the symphonies written after World War I - the ruminative, increasingly contrapuntal, meditative works take on new meaning and depth. The Pastoral Symphony (No 3), which was based upon RVW's wartime experience and has even been called the composer's "War Requiem" by Michael Kennedy is given a profound reading. The sound is gorgeous. The natural horn and trumpet moments are beautiful. Honestly, among the many great recordings of the third, I don't think any of them surpass Haitink and the LPO. Call it a stillness without stopping - deep waters shimmering on the surface. 

Symphony No 4 in F minor is one of the finest captured on record. The first movement is crisp, violent, and massive simultaneously. The second movement counterpoint floats as if effortlessly (but take a look at the score sometime and see how complicated it all is). The scherzo might be the most impressive. The rhythmic ideas are very complex and sometimes counterintuitive - listen to the soli bassoon section at the beginning of the movement and compare with other recordings. The bassoonists sometimes have a tricky time interpreting the rhythm at the top of this phrase, but here everything slots into place "as easy as falling off a log" as I heard one orchestral player put it. The flair of this music is fantastic - most orchestras are just trying to get the figures correct, but the LPO is beyond that, playing it meaningfully. I'm not sure I've heard the savage oompahs of the finale so well and tightly delivered and the swaggering melodies are played with appropriate cockiness. I don't think any version is better - it's only a matter of taste between this, Handley's, or Slatkin's. They each have their case to make and you can't go wrong with any of them.   

The centerpiece of Haitink's cycle, though, is the Symphony No 5 in D major. From the very opening pedal tone in the bass and the horn call reminiscent of both Ravel and Sibelius (to whom the symphony was dedicated), the music is imbued with luminosity unmatched in any other recording of this work. We seem immediately beyond time - the warmth and lift achieved by Haitink gives new meaning to the music. I think it was Frank Howes (an early critical champion of RVW's music) who called this symphony the 'Benediction.' It certainly feels like a blessing here. Sitting with the score as I write this, I'm just marveling. The orchestra is so good, and the pacing perfect. The second movement scherzo is, admittedly, not as crisp as some other recordings, but the Romanza third movement has exactly the sacred quality it deserves. The original inscription above the third movement read "He hath given me rest by His sorrow and life by His death." It's a moment taken from RVW's opera, The Pilgrim's Progress, which he feared would never get staged (it did, finally, in 1951). The Passacaglia fourth movement feels like a folk dance in heaven at times. This recording lives up to Michael Kennedy's description of the fifth as the 'Symphony of the Celestial City.'

I consider this to be the greatest moment of Haitink's cycle, and couldn't recommend it more strongly. It's one of the greatest recordings not only of a Vaughan Williams symphony but, in my opinion at least, of any symphony, and deserves to be in everyone's collection.   

Also included on this disc are an excellent recording of Norfolk Rhapsody No 1 and The Lark Ascending, played by a very young Sarah Chang on violin. Ms. Chang was only 14 years old or so when making this record, and it's unfortunate she was rushed into the project. She plays the violin beautifully, and the LPO accompanies well, but there is a real lack of meaning - she flies through the figures as though they are exercises (this has got to be one of the fastest Larks on record). I fear she was simply too young for the piece - and I'd love to hear another version from her now, because her playing is technically beautiful and can only have gotten deeper. 

Symphony No 6 in E minor was the first recorded of this cycle. I was concerned there might be a noticeable difference in quality or sound reproduction, as there were considerable advances in CD recording between 1984 and 2001, but there is nothing to worry about - it matches the rest of the cycle. The opening movement is brilliant - the contrast between the first and second, jazzier theme is more pronounced than nearly any other recording. Haitink really moves the music quickly here. If anyone tells you his tempi are universally slow, don't believe them. This and the aforementioned F minor Symphony (No 4) are proof Haitink's tempi are as varied as any cycle. The broad tune with harp - the Purcellian moment we all wait for in the first movement - is likewise contrasted, starting simply then soaring, as it should. No one does these moments better than Haitink. 

The second moves with real direction and pace as well - perhaps the fleetest other than Slatkin's, which was to follow nearly a decade later for his masterful cycle with the Philharmonia on RCA. The fullness, yet transparent lightness of the sound achieved by the LPO and the crew at Abbey Road is maintained throughout with the greatest consistency. Haitink's concept of blending is more continental in style - the instruments merge into each other to create new sounds rather than remaining distinct, as in more typically British style. This gives a totally different texture to these performances than Vernon Handley's with the RLPO. Both are among the very best cycles of RVW out there, and I wouldn't say one was any more important than the other, but they show different facets of this flexible music which can yield so much. The tension Haitink builds at the end of the second movement through stringendo and the thundering, contrasted with drawing back, is amazing - the listener almost wants this impending doom to stop, but Haitink & Co won't let it. The musical insistence is supreme, until the tense truce declared by the strings and cor anglais, beautifully delivered.

The tenor saxophone soloist in the scherzo is one of the finest ever recorded for this piece. It's a shame recordings never include the names of the actual musicians. Everyone else and his brother is listed in the credits, but not the musicians who performed. It's the most bizarre and unfair aspect of the classical recording world over the past century. The rest of the scherzo is great - emphasizing the monumental aspect of the catastrophic vision of the piece, perhaps, though there is plenty of violence as well. 

Haitink's fourth movement epilogue seems quicker paced than most recordings, but that's only because he stays true to the metronome marking in the score (quarter note = 56). Check out the score sometime, if you can read music. Look at the number of times RVW writes senza cresc. ("without crescendo") and see the number of beautiful, fully exposed solos where that is accomplished by the musicians of the LPO - the bass clarinet, the oboe, the french horns, trumpets. Pitch is maintained virtuosically. It's a beautifully, hauntingly effective recording of the piece to the very end.

Rounding out this disc is In the Fen Country - in a satisfyingly expansive reading you'd expect from Haitink - and the orchestral version of On Wenlock Edge, featuring Ian Bostridge singing the tenor. RVW preferred the orchestral version (probably made in 1922) to the original chamber version. This recording is exceptional - Bostridge is as good as it gets on this repertoire, and the pairing with Haitink is fortunate indeed.     

 

Haitink's version of Sinfonia Antartica (No 7) is one of the more pessimistic readings available, which is justified: it's probably RVW's most pessimistic symphony. The initial brass climax of the Prelude doesn't sound triumphant as in Boult or Slatkin's versions, but menacing and wary. The strings, Sheila Armstrong's wordless soprano, and the women's choir are chilling. 

The second movement is masterful. The recorded sound places the listener almost aurally inside the orchestra (this is a feature of this cycle as a whole). All of the sound effects and instruments are heard clearly. The penguin music, often barbarically treated, is played lightly with a sense that penguins are actually cute! And who doesn't want cute penguins? Much better than the savage nightmare penguins of some recordings.  

If you struggle with depression, maybe skip this landscape movement. Boy this is a grim one! I mean, it's a grim piece - in this reading it really sounds like RVW's 'anti-Sea Symphony' Symphony; almost a negation of youthful optimism. Whatever else you might say, you can't accuse Haitink of trying to rosy things up. The intermezzo is suitably nostalgic and broad. 

The epilogue is stoic, as the beginning, and overall this is a stoic reading of Sinfonia Antartica rather than heroic.   

One way of looking at the last three symphonies of Vaughan Williams is that they're a set of reflections on his career as a whole: Sinfonia Antartica a stoic, pessimistic reflection on A Sea Symphony, while the 8th and 9th symphonies, ultimately, have the same psychological program: leave taking. That two symphonies by the same composer should have similar programs isn't surprising. Tchaikovsky's 4th and 5th have the same trajectory - a fate motif overcome. Similarly, Beethoven 5 and 9 harken back to the Eroica. Vaughan Williams gives us 8 and 9, which seem to be wresting with dark questions, seeking resolution in a nocturnal landscape, finding release among the stars. 

Symphony No 8 in D minor opens with vibraphone, celesta, harp and a questioning trumpet. Jokingly referred to by its composer as "variations in search of the theme" the score actually calls it "Variazioni senza tema" (variations without a theme). It strikes me as the closest movement in RVW's works to Ives's Unanswered Question. Haitink gives it a broad existential reading here - and he remains committed to this throughout the piece. The second movement is a biting march scherzo for the winds only. If Sinfonia Antartica is a stoic reflection on A Sea Symphony, this march is a commentary on VW's earlier wind band music. The elegaic movement for strings also seems a tender reflection on the Tallis Fantasia and Variants on Dives and Lazarus. The fourth movement once again gives the sensation, thanks to the sound quality, of being inside the music itself - the slower tempo enables us to hear many details inaudible on other recordings. As with others in this cycle, this isn't a standard interpretation - for that you'd turn to Barbirolli, Handley, Boult's second recording of the piece, or Slatkin. But Haitink seems to approach this with a seriousness others don't. Whether that seriousness is compelling to listeners is probably a matter of personal taste. 

Symphony No 9 returns to the E minor of the Sixth Symphony, and is RVW's ultimate leave taking. Inspired by Thomas Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbervilles, it begins with a vision of Stonehenge at night, travels across Salisbury Plain to the beat of a ghostly drummer, until climbing the spire of Salisbury Cathedral into the stars. 

Haitink's 9 begins gentler than most other renditions, emphasizing lyricism rather than dread. It's more majestic than imposing, more heroic than harrowing. I appreciate this interpretation, as the last three symphonies of Vaughan Williams can be very dark, psychologically - that Haitink seems to view the Sinfonia Antartica as the low point of pessimism in the cycle and a continuous arc higher from that point is releiving. His engagement with the counterpoint is more lyrical, less savage than other recordings. The flugelhorn playing here is some of my favorite. What a mournful instrument the flugel is in this context. On the original release of the CD, Ann McAneney was given credit, but for some reason she was omitted in the credits for the box set. 

The second movement continues its course and Haitink remains committed to a lyrical interpretation. This is part of the reason I've called the 5th symphony the center of this set: you can finally hear how the 9th relates back to the 5th. In most cycles, they bear very little resemblance. There is more light and contrast in Haitink's 9th than in other versions.

The third movement reminds me of how well John Williams must have known this piece. So much from Star Wars and E.T. seem prefigured. The textures revealed by Haitink at the beginning of the fourth movement harkens back to music from Hodie and the portraits from the England of Elizabeth. Haitink transforms what is often performed as relentless and grim to a gentler landscape, more dance-like in expression. The blending of the orchestra in the massive sections is gorgeous - no two colors are alike from moment to moment. For me this is the finest recording of Vaughan Williams 9: my first recommendation for anyone approaching it. It almost seems like the piece languished, misunderstood, for over forty years, until recorded here.

In summary, I think the Haitink cycle is unique in its perspective and important for serious listeners of RVW. It focuses on sound and lyricism, placing the Symphony No 5 at the center. I consider it a contrasting cycle to Boult, Handley and the others - listeners will probably want to hear a more traditional approach before tackling these, but once you really know them, you'll want to hear the great Dutchman's ideas, executed so beautifully by the London Philharmonic.  

  

CD Review: Benny Goodman * Air Play * Doctor Jazz * 1986 release (live takes from 1936-38)

In 1986, with little fanfare, the Doctor Jazz label put out a double LP containing remasters of Benny Goodman air checks under the title of Air Play. Despite the unfortunate choice of putting an elderly Benny on the cover, these were actually live performances of the 1936, 1937, and 1938 Goodman band, quartet, trio, and even a rare duo between Benny Goodman and Teddy Wilson. The original acetates had been given to Goodman by Thomas Ciano of Long Island, transferred by D.R. Connor, and represent some of the finest examples of Goodman's band from its most important period.

 

The catalogue of live Goodman is fairly vast, and there are better known collections out there, including the famous 1938 Carnegie Hall Concert, multiple volumes of the Camel Caravan, and the "Complete" Madhattan Room Broadcasts. But even with those essential recordings in mind, if I was to recommend only one album of live Goodman material, it would be Air Play.

Though this double LP set was eventually released in 1989 on a single CD, and therefore is considerably shorter than the other live sets mentioned above, these arguably represent the finest live performances we have of Goodman. Each different band is presented in top form. Leading off with 1937 checks, it's Harry James's leadership of the trumpet section that leaps out of the speakers at us. The young James's presence is so stunning, and the trumpet section of Ziggy Elman and Chris Griffin so tightly pulled along in his irresistible tide of sound, that we can understand why Duke Ellington called this trio the "wonder of the age", and why Cootie Williams made it a professional goal to one day play in the Goodman band. For me, this is the hardest swinging, best sounding trumpet section ever assembled.

Matching that intensity and swagger is Goodman's clarinet. Too often, it was suggested by jealous, hardly disinterested parties that Goodman was a mere technician. These recordings refute such an accusation more eloquently than any others. Few moments in clarinet history thrill me quite the way Benny's statement of the theme on an up-tempo "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" from January 19, 1937. His tone is absolutely commanding: solid, flexible, muscular; his swing is a perfection of paradox--loosely firm, sweetly punching, relaxed tension--the limber, balanced boxer of jazz clarinet. It's a very short moment, but any clarinetist wanting to understand the essence of Goodman's musical style needs to attempt this solo with the same commanding presence. They will soon find that the Goodman mystique and style ultimately have very little to do with flashiness. Musical and tonal depth are the true sources of Goodman's interpretive sense.

One of the acetates was from a shortwave broadcast from New York to the BBC. According to the notes, Gene Krupa had the flu and couldn't make the gig. Because of this, we're treated to a Goodman/Wilson duo for "Body & Soul"-- arguably the finest performance of a tune that they "owned" anyway, followed immediately by "Dinah" with Lionel Hampton added on vibes. Benny was known for making his winds rehearse at times without rhythm section--he would insist that each section be able to swing on their own. This, in part, accounts for the unique drive of the Goodman band. In the duo and trio, we hear how this sort of swing was present in each of the members, independently of drum support.

There are as many gems here as tracks--including a solo performance by Jess Stacy of Bix Beiderbecke's "In a Mist", a definitive version of "You Go To My Head" with Martha Tilton taking the vocal, and (for me at least) the definitive quartet version of "Stompin' at the Savoy". The inner voicings of Lionel Hampton's soloing on "Stompin" are the most eloquent of the many I've heard, and the acetate transfer is uniquely excellent. The most famous version of this, from the Carnegie Hall concert, sounds overwrought and tense in comparison.

On "You're Blasé", the trio is yet another unique configuration, with Lionel Hampton taking over on drums. This charming little tune was never recorded in the studio by Goodman's "classic" quartet or trio.

Bud Freeman, whose tenure with Goodman was so fleeting, was even present on several tracks, demonstrating particularly on "Bumble Bee Stomp" why he is such a seminal figure in the development of the tenor saxophone.

The liner notes by Leonard Feather are a refreshing example of excellent jazz criticism. Instead of ideological vagaries, Feather engages the music itself, commenting intelligently about certain aspects of the arrangements, and the forms of tunes. Moreover, as a historian, he deftly places Goodman in proper context when he writes:

Swing music, in fact, was a phenomenon that had been around for years; all that was needed to bring it into focus was an individual in whom (and around whom) all its essential characteristics could coalesce, in such a manner that its appeal would cut across barriers and result in mass popularity both for the artist and for the idiom he represented.

It was not surprising that Benny Goodman was that individual. He was the first genuine virtuoso jazz orchestra leader ever to front an ensemble of this quality. Duke Ellington's genius was expressed more through his orchestra than at the piano; Louis Armstrong, incomparable as a soloist, never had a band worthy of him and was busy trying to get his sax section to emulate the sound of Guy Lombardo.   

Finally, one of the more hauntingly beautiful moments in air check history occurs with Goodman's sign off number, Gordon Jenkins' "Goodbye", when two announcers close the evening's broadcast--one in Japanese and one in English, as the broadcast was transmitted not only to the United States, but Tokyo for the many jazz fans in Japan. This peace-filled moment of cultural exchange is made more poignant with what we 21st century listeners know: that many of those listening and dancing to this music would be plunged into a terrible conflict only two years later, undoubtedly claiming lives from those ranks. The great era of American musical romanticism ushered in by the Goodman band would be almost as short lived as the war itself, the consequences of which made, in many ways, the type of music making Goodman and his colleagues made on these air checks impossible shortly thereafter.

This is an essential collection for anyone who loves American music or jazz.

CD Review: Tchaikovsky Symphonies 5 & 6 * Mstislav Rostropovich * London Philharmonic Orchestra * Parlophone * 1976

 

London Philharmonic Orchestra

Mstislav Rostropovich, conductor, solo cello

Warner Music re-release box set of 6 CDs, containing Tchaikovsky's Symphonies 1-6, 'Manfred' Symphony, Romeo & Juliet, Francesca Da Rimini, '1812' Overture, and the Rococo Variations

Discs 5 & 6:

Symphony No 5

Variations on a Rococo Theme (Seiji Ozawa, conductor, Boston Symphony Orch)

Overture '1812'

Symphony No 6 'Pathetique'

Rostropovich's interpretation of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No 5 in E minor begins so slowly it's alarming. But throughout this set, I've learned to trust and be patient. That patience is once again rewarded. This is not to be understood as a conventional take on this work, and isn't the recording I'd choose to introduce listeners to Tchaik 5. For a basic introduction, I'd suggest the famous recording of Mravinsky with Leningrad on Deutsche Grammophon. Two other great recordings in a more standard vein are George Szell with Cleveland or Zubin Mehta's fine recording from the 1970s with the Los Angeles Philharmonic (a really great cycle in general, too often overlooked).

This recording of the Fifth is more like a controversial soloist's take on a beloved and overplayed concerto. The risks all pay off - we're all glad he took them by the end - but it isn't exactly what you're expecting going in. Once again, the fact that it was recorded in Kingsway Hall gives the orchestra a massive quality that is difficult to replicate on other recordings, and the attention to detail is nothing short of remarkable (one wonders how much rehearsal time or retakes of sections went into it). The finale stands out in particular - the attentive listener will likely hear lines they've never heard before, with an unparalleled clarity.

The Rococo Variations were recorded with Seiji Ozawa and the Boston Symphony, in Boston Symphony Hall, with Rostropovich as soloist. I'm a clarinetist and saxophonist, and this is Mstislav Rostropovich on cello. How on earth am I going to critique his playing? The man was a legend and this recording is therefore self recommending. Listen and enjoy.

The final disc in this Tchaikovsky box begins with the 1812 Overture, recorded with the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington D.C.'s Kennedy Center. That hall has a beautifully warm sound (I've had the good fortune to play there, and was the warmest hall I'd ever played, soundwise). This is a solid interpretation of the piece. Unlike so many in this set, Rostropovich doesn't opt for a broad reading. It's all pretty standard tempi, executed cleanly with some verve by the NSO.

Symphony No 6 in B minor 'Pathetique' returns us for the final installment of the cycle recorded (mostly) in Kingsway Hall, London, with the London Philharmonic, in October of 1976. Once again, the listener has to be patient and trust where Rostropovich is taking us in the first movement, and I think he does deliver at the big moments. The 5/4 waltz of the second and the march of the third are both delivered in a more standard way - very effective and with great color by the orchestra and hall. The fourth movement is heartfelt, with the LPO strings approaching the almost vocal quality of the finest Russian orchestras. It wouldn't be my first choice of Pathetiques, but it is a very good rendition of the piece.

So looking at this set as a whole, I'd say it lived up to my expectations. This is a cycle where the orchestral sound and Kingsway Hall are the stars. I don't think you'll find a set with richer and more diverse colors. The one symphony that was recorded outside of Kingsway (the so-called 'Polish' symphony No 3) might just be the finest version of the piece I've heard on record, so it's not a disappointment.

My recommendation for a first cycle (with Manfred) would be Evegeny Svetlanov's live cycle with the USSR State Symphony Orchestra from the 1960s - although Western listeners should beware: it's as raucous a Russian recording as you can get. Without Manfred, I'd recommend Zubin Mehta's with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. I think the Mravinsky recordings of 4,5 and 6 are a must for every collection. But as a contrasting cycle, delivering very different, broad interpretations with gorgeous detail and sound, this really can't be beat. Get one before they all disappear. I don't think you'll be disappointed.