Samuel Wesley: Symphonies. London Mozart Players/Matthias Bamert (Chandos)
Samuel Wesley (1766-1837), nephew of the founder of Methodism, was in his youth called "an English Mozart". But he lived in that post-Handel England dubbed "the country without music", and his illegitimate son, Samuel Sebastian, went on to claim greater fame as a composer. The first of Samuel's five symphonies is a peculiar Sinfonia obligato of 1781, with virtuoso organ, violin and cello solos, and some of the quirkiness of C.P.E. Bach. Though not without their moments of drama, the later symphonies (three scored for strings and horns, one with fuller wind and timpani) are of a more mainstream late 18th-century cast, but with contrapuntal inclinations reflecting the composer's reverence for J.S. Bach. Bamert and his players give the impression of getting fully the best out of the music.
- Michael Dervan
Morton Feldman: Complete Music for Violin and Piano. Marc Sabat, Stephen Clarke (Mode, 2 CDs)
The Canadian violin and piano duo of Marc Sabat and Stephen Clarke (who'll be giving the only premiere in the Gerald Barry Festival later this month) here range over Morton Feldman's output from 1950 to 1982, from the miniature, Webern-flavoured Piece for Violin and Piano to the late, 82-minute, For John Cage, where micro-tonal violin grazes tiny gaps against the equal-tempered piano. In an odd way, the combination of string instrument and piano - always one of the most difficult of musical marriages - places the minute gestures of Feldman's hushed world in an austere light, much more so, even, than the works for solo piano. With its elaboration of the minuscule through time, Feldman's is music of a nakedness which the combination of bow and hammer simply never distracts from.
- Michael Dervan
Beethoven: Complete Violin Sonatas. Wolfgang Schneiderhan, Wilhelm Kempff (DG Originals, 3 CDs)
These 1952 recordings were made when violinist Wolfgang Schneiderhan was newly launched on a solo career and are now issued to mark his 85th birthday. The performances straddle different musical worlds, embracing at one and the same time the fluidity of tempo of an earlier age and the more rigorous classical sensitivity that asserted itself in the post-war years. Schneiderhan and Kempff managed this through an exceptional collaborative intimacy. They sound as if they're playing for themselves, the microphones serving only to allow the public to eavesdrop on the most naturally flexible of musical dialogues. The slow movements are sung with rare delicacy, and elsewhere the forceful expression of the stormier passages is always finely controlled. A treat worth anyone's investigation.
- Michael Dervan
