Haydn, Rota, and Saint-Saëns with Yamada and Wendel at Severance

The weather and air quality cooperated as The Cleveland Orchestra’s 2026 Summers at Severance concert series continued last night.  The smoke from the Canadian wildfires – which two weeks ago caused pre-concert festivities to be moved indoors – had cleared – and with the temperatures agreeable, patrons gathered on Severance Hall’s front portico for drinks and snacks.

Last night’s program featured music from the 18^th, 19^th, and 20^th centuries led by guest conductor Kazuki Yamada, assisted by Principal Trombonist Brian Wendel – appointed to that post in 2022.  I don’t usually comment on a performer’s attire, but instead of the customary black, Yamada wore navy-blue tails and trousers. 

The concert opened with Franz Josef Haydn’s Symphony No. 104 in D major, often called “The London Symphony” and the composer’s last work in the genre.  Yamada took the introduction at a slightly more spacious tempo than is customary before launching into a boldly articulated opening movement.  The following Andante was a portrait of restrained, elegant poetry.  The Menuet’s trio was especially memorable, with rests ever so slightly prolonged in a manner that would surely have delighted Haydn himself.  The finale beautifully balanced the rustic character of its principal theme, based on a Croatian ballad, with elegance and refinement.  One can only imagine what Haydn, who was impressed with the quality of London’s orchestras, would have thought of The Cleveland Orchestra’s flawless yet warm performance.   

Following a very quick stage adjustment, Yamada returned with Wendel for Nino Rota’s Trombone Concerto in C, composed in 1966 – less than a decade before Rota’s best known tune – the theme from Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather – became an international earworm.  This is Wendel’s first concerto appearance here, but he showed no sign of nervousness whatsoever.  Rota’s concerto opens with an angular first movement, which sounds distinctly mid-20^th century while remaining firmly tonal and immediately accessible.  The soloist played with impeccable intonation with nary a blemish to be heard.  The second movement which begins in a somber, almost desolate manner before becoming increasingly agitated, featured sensitive phrasing and a liquid tone that belied the trombone’s identity as a brass instrument.  The witty rondo, with its rapid-fire changes of intonation, from repeated notes to staccato to long legato lines – all while the orchestra motors along – brought down the house.  Wendel was brought out for three curtain calls.     

 

Wendel following the concerto.

Following intermission Yamada returned to conduct a repertoire spectacular, Saint-Saëns Symphony No. 3 in C minor, Op. 78, the so-called "Organ Symphony.”  Yet in this case, the work was treated more as a symphonic structure than an excuse for excess volume.  Yamada, whose conducting technique is outwardly economical, revealed the work’s contrapuntal detail – particularly in the mini-fugue episode of the work’s final movement.  Instrumental lines often submerged in recordings emerged with striking clarity, while the organ, brass, and percussion remained integrated into the orchestral fabric instead of overwhelming it.  Yet, the work was no less spectacular.

The only blemish of the night came not from the orchestra, but from the row behind me.  Someone’s mobile phone rang during the second movement of the Saint-Saëns, providing an unwelcome obbligato.  Worse, it was one of those loud rings made to sound like an old-school landline.  Worst of all, the patron seemed to be uncertain of how to turn the phone off.  I suddenly remembered that I didn’t hear the usual recorded announcement asking patrons to silence their electronic devices before the concert.  The announcement should be reinstated at the concert’s opening and repeated at the end of intermission.

Smetana, Rachmaninoff, and Dvořák with Bychkov and Ohlsson

The Summers at Severance 2026 season commenced with the welcome return of guest conductor Semyon Bychkov and pianist Garrick Ohlsson in a program of Smetana, Rachmaninoff, and Dvořák.  Owing to smoke from the Canadian wildfires, the customary pre-concert drinks and snacks with light music were moved indoors to the safety and comfort of one of America’s first air-conditioned halls.  As is common for summer concerts, the program was focused on easily digestible standard repertoire. 

Bychkov opened the program with The Moldau from Smetana’s Má vlast.  The performance highlighted the orchestra’s beautiful, burnished tone – far suaver than that caught on most recordings.  But some parts seemed overly smooth as the conductor deemphasized dynamic contrasts like the subito pianos during the wedding dance sequence.  Still, this was a performance of rare technical polish.

Following a quick stage change, Ohlsson, no stranger to Cleveland, joined conductor and orchestra for Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 1.  It would be tempting to call Rachmaninoff’s work one of the most arresting first opuses in history, but in truth it bears little resemblance to what the composer played when the work’s opening movement was premiered in 1892.  Instead, it was heavily patterned after Grieg’s Piano Concerto.  Rachmaninoff’s 1917 changes to the work – too drastic to be considered a revision, more of a rewrite, resulted in a more concise, dramatic piece.  Ohlsson, who I’ve twice heard conquer Busoni’s massive, 70+ minute long Piano Concerto, definitely has the chops to play this piece.  But what really impressed with his performance were the musicality and sense of structure – something too often lost by soloists who pursue gushing melodies or pianistic pyrotechnics.  Bychkov and the orchestra furnished an accompaniment which was rich without descending in Hollywood-esque schmaltz.  The audience began applauding before the last chord finished echoing off the hall’s back wall.

During the first curtain call, someone in the first row gave Ohlsson a large bouquet of flowers and he continued to carry them with him, including when he returned to the piano to play an encore.  The pianist humorously introduced it by saying “There’s no need to announce this piece because everyone will know it,” before beginning a poetic rendition of Debussy’s Clair de lune, featuring plasticity of phrasing and lovely pianissimos.

 

Ohlsson before the bouquet was handed to him.

Following intermission Bychkov returned to lead the evening’s concluding work, Dvořák’s Symphony No. 8 in G major, Op. 88.  This is probably the composer’s most joyous symphony.  Though I was able to perceive the work’s overall character, a nagging headache prevented me from concentrating enough on the performance itself to impart its details.  

Beethoven’s Fidelio at Severance

Franz Welser-Möst and the Cleveland Orchestra are wrapping up the 2025-2026 Season this month, and this weekend featured the orchestra’s annual opera production: Beethoven’s only work in the genre, Fidelio.

Let’s put the obvious up front, as an opera, Fidelio has strengths and glaring weaknesses.  It went through two failed productions in 1805 and 1806 before it was heavily revised and successfully mounted in 1814.  Beethoven was never a great writer for the voice, and this opera puts that limitation front and center. The libretto, which was based on two previous operas, centers around a woman who disguises herself as a man to get a job as a prison guard and free her husband from captivity.  Beethoven’s pacing is uneven and things don’t really get moving until the second act.  Yet what matters most is not the details of the plot, but the thematic context: the durability of love and freedom from oppression.

This was my first time seeing Fidelio.  Though it was presented without staging, several things came through that aren’t that apparent on recordings: the humor when Marzelline snarkily resists Jaquino’s advances in the first act; or the absurdity when Rocco notes of Leonore/Fidelio “this woman was about to become my son-in-law!”

As usual, the orchestra played spotlessly and with superb balance, so the singers were never overpowered.  Welser-Möst’s pacing was masterful.  Tony F. Sias presented the narrative sections in English which helped clarify the plot.  The singers were consistently on a high level; but special mention must be made of David Butt Philip’s performance as Florestan, whose opening “GOTT!” was simply astonishing.

In today’s era, particularly in the United States, when LGBTQ people find their rights being threatened, and when trans and non-binary people are subject to increasing hostility, the Cleveland Orchestra’s production of Fidelio can be legitimately seen as having more than musical context.  The past few years have demonstrated that this valued and venerable Cleveland institution is unafraid to make statements that go beyond pure music. 

Prokofiev, Neuwirth, and Wagner with Welser-Möst and Widmann

With the Cleveland Orchestra’s 2025-2026 season approaching its close, music director Franz Welser-Möst returned to the podium to lead a program that seemed tailor made for the ensemble: a popular early-20^th Century Symphony, the US premiere of a new work, capped off by roof-shaking opera excepts from the 19^th Century.

The concert opened in with a perfectly proportioned rendition of Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 1 in C major, the so-called “Classical” symphony.  Welser-Möst adopted a slightly more relaxed tempo than usual for the opening movement, almost an Allegro moderato instead of Allegro. This contrasted nicely with a somewhat brisker than usual second movement, before moving onto a Gavotte which featured some beautifully timed rubati when the winds entered with the main theme.  The Finale, which featured the repeat, was especially buoyant.

Clarinet soloist Jörg Widmann (a composer himself) joined Welser-Möst and the orchestra for Zones of Blue, a new work by Austrian composer Olga Neuwirth.  This is one of those works which takes the “everything but the kitchen sink” approach to orchestration.  I won’t waste your time or my mental energy going over the details of a work which was a curious mix of half-hearted riffs from Gershwin (including the opening salvo of Rhapsody in Blue) and Miles Davis, mixed with orchestral noise. I have never particularly cared for the sound of the clarinet, and this work only served to aggravate my tinnitus.

The second half of the concert was devoted to a well-selected grouping of from Götterdämmerung, the final opera in Wagner’s The Ring of the Nibelung tetralogy.  Welser-Möst’s approach to Wagner somewhat reminds me of Karl Böhm’s.  He keeps the tempos moving yet flexible, without allowing the orchestra to sound overly bombastic – as doing so in an actual operatic performance would overwhelm the singers.  This made for an effective, cohesive presentation of what are usually derisively referred to as “bleeding chunks” from Wagner’s epic.

A relic from an earlier era at Severance

The previous day, Daniel and I attended a performance The Outsiders musical at Connor Palace theatre in Playhouse Square.  The performers should be lauded, but the musical numbers themselves were weak.  The whole did not pack the emotional punch of the 1983 film.  

Britten’s War Requiem at Severance

The team that determines the programming for The Cleveland Orchestra deserves high praise for numerous reasons: First, they consistently craft programs that mix the old and the new, the familiar with the unfamiliar; second, many of the programs have a thematic strand tying the various works together; third, the selected works are often relevant beyond the musical sphere.  This is especially the case with this weekend’s concerts, which were devoted to a single work by Benjamin Britten, a pacifist: his War Requiem.  Even more interesting is that this program was decided over a year ago, long before the Trump administration launched its actions in Venezuela, the Caribbean, the Eastern Pacific, and most recently Iran.

Klaus Mäkelä, substituting for Daniel Harding, conducted the orchestra in a performance which also featured soprano Tamara Wilson, tenor Andrew Staples, baritone Ludwig Mittelhammer, The Cleveland Orchestra Chorus and The Cleveland Orchestra Children's Chorus.  I am unaware if Mäkelä has led this work before, but he conducted with surety and without micromanaging.  Pacing was ideal.  He knew when to hold the orchestra in check and when to loosen the reins.  The various sections of the orchestra, along with the vocal soloists and chorus, were well balanced.  The Children’s Chorus, placed off stage, produced an ethereal sonority.  The clear acoustics of Severance Hall made the diction in both Latin and English understandable – at least from my listening point midway back on the main floor.  Mäkelä and the orchestra remained frozen for a full minute after the work concluded and the audience remained silent – perhaps a moment of silence for those killed throughout mankind’s blood-stained history.

 

During this performance however, I found my thoughts turning not to the dead soldiers of the First or Second World Wars.  Instead, I thought of the many innocent civilians being killed in these and other conflicts.  Perhaps selfishly, my heart also turned to someone very important to me, who is currently serving in the United States military – a sensitive, intelligent young person who happens to like Classical music and has attended Cleveland Orchestra performances.  Fortunately, he’s nowhere near Iran – but that could change and he would be powerless to stop it.        

Shostakovich and Schubert at Severance

Guest conductor Santtu-Matias Rouvali, less than a year after a summer appearance here, returned to Severance Hall this weekend to lead the Cleveland Orchestra in contrasting works by Shostakovich and Schubert. 

Rouvali was joined by cellist Sol Gabetta for the concert’s opening work, Shostakovich’s Cello Concerto No. 2, Op. 126.  Although I know the composers more popular First Cello Concerto well, I was unfamiliar with this work until tonight’s concert.  Fortunately, I was joined by a cellist friend of mine who filled me in on the work’s structure and technical details.  One hears in the concerto’s opening movement the extreme turmoil that burdened Shostakovich as he had to balance his own desire for artistic expression with the practical necessity of avoiding running afoul of the Soviet music bureaucracy. The work has numerous arresting touches, including some inventive orchestration and a parody of a popular Russian song from the 1920s (Kupite bubliki/Buy bagels).  Gabetta conveyed every mood, including the sense of conflict between the soloist and orchestra – doubtless a reflection of the composer’s own conflicts.  Her performance was rapturously received, and she performed a fascinating encore which was a musical dialogue between herself and the orchestra’s percussionist, Mark Damoulakis. 

 

Following intermission Rouvali returned to lead a work that could hardly be more different from the Shostakovich: Schubert’s Symphony No. 9 in C major, D. 944.  This is one of my five favorite symphonies and one of the first I heard in its entirely thanks to a cassette tape my father gave to me when I was about thirteen (the Cleveland/Szell recording on Columbia).  Rouvali’s performance was close to ideal, with a conception that was thought out but not micromanaged, with tempi that were never dragged, with playing that was polished but not prissy, and the whole stripped of the phony Gemütlichkeit which has marred too many performances of this work.  Thankfully, Rouvali skipped the optional repeats except for the trio of the third movement.  The melodies floated over the accompaniment in a way that was, well, Schubertian.  The finale positively swung.  One could take issue with the exaggerated ritard the conductor introduced in the coda of the first movement (somewhat traditional in some circles but unspecified in the score) but this was a minor quibble.  This was a life-affirming “Great” C major, not proto-Mahler.

Fauré, Poulenc, Casella, and Debussy at Severance

Guest conductor Daniele Rustioni led this weekend’s Cleveland Orchestra concerts in a program of mostly French music.

The concert began with Gabriel Fauré’s Suite from Pelléas et Mélisande.  The opening Prélude unfolded with pastoral serenity, while the following Entr’acte benefitted from feather-light playing by the orchestra’s strings.  The most well-known movement, Sicilienne - used for years as the opening to our local Classical station’s late-night program – featured a gorgeous flute solo.

The next work was one of my favorite non-piano concertos, Poulenc’s Concerto for Organ, Strings, and Timpani, featuring soloist Paul Jacobs, a regular visitor here.  This performance was more than the evening’s highlight, it was simply the finest performance of this work I’ve ever heard – either in concert or on recordings.  Jacobs and Rustioni gave this concerto, which too often sounds sectionalized, a dramatic through-line which clarified the work’s structure without sacrificing the piece’s elan.  It was a performance which balanced the conflicting sides of Poulenc’s personality: his religious rectitude and his secular sensuality.  To say the performance was well received is an understatement.  In response to the sustained ovation, Jacobs made his way back to the organ, sat down, turned to face the audience, and asked “Do you like Bach?”  Some affirming applause led to an encore by J. S. Bach, but I couldn’t name the specific work.

I wish I could say the rest of the concert was on the same level but, alas, that was not the case.  Following intermission Rustioni returned to lead the orchestra in Italia by Alfredo Casella.  The work, from 1909, is a skillfully orchestrated patriotic pastiche of popular Italian tunes, including “Funiculi, Funiculà.”  On the ride home, Daniel commented that the opening sounded like film music to him, and I’d had the exact same thought – specifically the more bombastic work of Max Steiner.  The conductor and orchestra clearly enjoyed delivering this rarely heard piece, and the audience enjoyed hearing it.  I didn’t mind hearing it either – once.

The final work on the program was Debussy’s La Mer.  Well played as it was, this performance was missing what the Poulenc concerto had in abundance – a unified conception.  Instead, it was a series of episodes and garish colors.  Rustioni’s micromanaging of parts of the score (which the orchestra plays with some regularity and could probably perform in their sleep) was as unnecessary as the vocalizing he was heard offering several times tonight.  I generally don’t get caught up in conductor’s platform manners, but it was appropriate that his concert took place on Easter weekend, because Rustioni hopped around on the platform like a bunny rabbit.

Kidane, Bartók, Scriabin, and screaming at Severance

Elim Chan continued her two-week guest stint with The Cleveland Orchestra at Severance Hall with an engaging program of music from the 20^th and 21^st Centuries.

The concert began with Daniel Kldane’s Sun Poem, composed in 2022 and receiving its first Cleveland performances this weekend.  The work is symmetrically constructed, starting with muted trumpets, gradually joined by other instruments.  Parts of the work reminded me of the minimalism of John Adams, and it  seemed more focused on layering textures than thematic development.  The work ended quietly, much as it began.

Violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja then strode onstage in bare feet, wearing a red outfit for Béla Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 1 – composed in 1908 for a lover, but unpublished during his lifetime and unperformed until 1958, 14 years after the composer’s death.  I was unfamiliar with this concerto and surprised by the work’s blending of aching romanticism with modernity.  On a technical level, Kopatchinskaja played the work well.  She also put on a choreographic show that made Glenn Gould seem like a portrait of restrained normalcy.  I understand that certain mannerisms among performers can be unavoidable.  But this was pure circus act and drew attention to herself rather than the music.  Some in the audience responded positively to it, including a wannabe orator behind me whose eruptions reminded me of similar screaming I endured at a Ricky Martin concert in Las Vegas in 2017.  I wonder if he was a deranged groupie.  Kopatchinskaja played what she described as a “contemporary” work as an encore, which was a mix of catlike scratching on the instrument accompanied by grimaces and vocalizations from her.     

A sense of normalcy returned after intermission when Chan returned to lead Bartók’s  Dance Suite.  Fron 1923, this is a work of Bartók’s mature style: Modern yet not atonal.  Chan maintained perfect control over the rhythm, yet for all the propulsiveness in the work’s faster movements, the orchestra’s tone never became harsh, and the sections were all in balance.  This was about as suave as I’ve ever heard Bartók performed.

The final work was Scriabin’s Poem of Ecstasy, a work of mystical eroticism which provided an appropriate climax for the evening.  Chan’s interpretation was guts and glory, with no holding back – yet just when it seemed the potential of the orchestra was exhausted, they kept piling on more.  The last few minutes were a sustained musical orgasm.

 

 

Stravinsky, Haydn, and Beethoven at Severance

Guest conductor Elim Chan returned to Cleveland to lead a varied program that ranged from the classical age, to the cusp of the romantic era, to the realm of neoclassicism.  As with her previous appearance here, Chan demonstrated she’s one of her generation’s most compelling conductors.

The concert opened with the 1949 version of the Suite from Pulcinella, Stravinsky’s clever reimagining of works not by just Pergolesi, as Stravinsky thought, but Gallo, Wassenaer, and Monza as well.  This ballet score has been overshadowed by the composer’s more revolutionary works in that genre like the Firebird and the Rite of Spring, but in recent years it has grown on me.  Chan led the reduced ensemble and perfectly captured the score’s blend of the antique and the modern, with wit and whimsy.  The audience was engaged and responded with some chuckles following the bumptious march and warm applause afterward.  During the ovation, Chan walked over to acknowledge each player, rather than pointing to them from the podium.

The orchestra’s principle trumpet Michael Sachs, sporting a newly grown beard, strode onstage for the concert’s next work, Franz Josef Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto in E-flat major.  The work was composed for the newly invented keyed trumpet, but recordings on such instruments demonstrate that when it comes to this work, the period instrument movement is sadly misguided.  Sachs delivered a spotless, effortless sounding  performance, especially notable to the liquid tone he produced in the work’s central Andante.  My father, who died nearly ten years ago, played trumpet from high school onward, and this was one of those concerts I wish I could have brought him to.

 

Following intermission Chan returned to lead the orchestra in possibly the most famous classical composition of all time: Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67. This is a work which has become so well known that it’s almost impossible to listen to with fresh ears.  But Chan’s lean approach, which eschewed bombast and favored balance over volume, was most welcome.  She conducted with the score and followed the markings (including the correct placement of the ritardandi early in the third movement) rather than applying “traditional” rhetorical flourishes.  Tempi were on the brisk side, and the last movement repeat was observed.  It was a resounding conclusion to a successful night. 

If Chan isn’t on the short list to succeed music director Franz Welser-Möst, she should be added to it immediately.

Throughout the concert, I was reminded once again of what a rare treasure our orchestra is.  Whatever the issues of living in northeast Ohio, from the state’s corrupt, gerrymandered politics to the regions capricious weather, when one considers the cost of living balanced against three major sports franchises, cultural amenities including the nation’s second largest theater district, world-class museums, and of course The Cleveland Orchestra, why would a person of culture want to live anywhere else?  

The Slow, Sad Death of Sony Classical

During the 20^th Century, there were two great American Classical Music record labels, Columbia and RCA.  Columbia had sub-labels like Epic and Odyssey, and RCA had Gold Seal.  Columbia’s artist roster included conductors Bruno Walter, George Szell, and Eugene Ormandy – to name but three, along with pianist Rudolf Serkin and, for an eleven-year period, Vladimir Horowitz.  RCA had Arturo Toscanini, Fritz Reiner, Charles Munch, Ormandy after 1968, violinist Jascha Heifetz and pianists Artur Rubinstein and Van Cliburn – along with Horowitz for most of his career. 

Columbia and RCA fought for supremacy in the American classical market.  They also marketed to Europe, but the United States was their priority - and they endured through competition with European labels including Decca/London, Deutsche Grammophon, and Philips, along with American upstarts like Mercury records.

As older generations of performing artists died, new ones rose to prominence – for example, Leonard Bernstein, who was a Columbia artist until defecting to DG.  Horowitz’s pupils Byron Janis and Gary Graffman were RCA performers until the label dumped them in favor of Cliburn, who had just won the 1958 Tchaikovsky Competition.  Janis went to Mercury records, while Graffman went to Columbia – and subsequently helped persuade Horowitz to join him there after the elder artist became disenchanted with RCA’s approach to recording and marketing. 

It was during this period, the 1950s and 1960s, that both RCA and Columbia were recording large swaths of the Classical repertoire in stereo, with their labels boasting of “Living Stereo” and “360-degree sound.” 

The 1970’s saw a precipitous drop in Classical record sales.  The issue was mainly that the core repertoire had been recorded umpteen times and listeners saw little reason to buy, for example, Rubinstein’s 1971 recording of Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto with the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy when they had a perfectly fine version with Rubinstein and the Chicago Symphony under Fritz Reiner from 1956 – in “Living Stereo” to boot.  If memory serves, the 1956 recording sold some 250,000 copies, whereas the 1971 remake sold a mere 13,000.  “Advancements” from both RCA and Columbia including Dynagroove, Quadrophonic sound, and gimmicked microphone placement resulted in some atrocious sounding records – particularly from RCA.

But there were two changes which briefly revived sales industry-wide: the advents of digital recording and the Compact Disc.  Suddenly, the core repertoire was being recorded again with unrestricted dynamics and without tape hiss.  Telarc Records, the Mercury records of the 1980s-1990s, recorded a good deal of that repertoire with the Cleveland Orchestra.  RCA’s big names, Rubinstein, Ormandy, Horowitz, had either died, retired, or defected to other labels.  Columbia’s biggest name at the time, Leonard Bernstein, switched allegiances to Deutsche Grammophon, as did Rudolf Serkin.  Glenn Gould was dead.  For new recordings RCA and Columbia largely had to rely on solid performers who, with the exception of Yo-Yo Ma, never really caught fire with the public like the old-timers had: Emanuel Ax, Murray Perahia, Paavo Berglund.

In 1989 Sony Classical bought Columbia Masterworks and, as their first coup, signed Vladimir Horowitz for what turned out to be his last recording – and what a fine recording it is both in terms of recorded sound and performance.  By then, RCA – once such a corporate giant that it owned the NBC radio and television networks – was part of the Bertelsmann Music Group and was struggling.  Much of their business was driven by reissues of varying quality from their back catalogue.  As someone who worked at a Classical record store (the Music Box at Cleveland’s Shaker Square) in the 1980s, I saw early on how the back catalog continued to have market potential.  One day in 1985, we received four copies of Artur Rubinstein playing Tchaikovsky’s and Grieg’s Piano concertos on CD – recordings which originated in the 1960s.  My manager scoffed and said “these will never sell – CD collectors only want pure Digital recordings, not this analog crap.”  In fact, all four copies sold within a few days while newer digital recordings of the same repertoire languished.    

During the 1990s, both RCA’s and Sony’s releases included a combination of new material and reissues.  RCA’s included Toscanini’s complete authorized recordings (which included a cabinet for those who purchased the complete edition), a 22-CD set of Horowitz’s RCA recordings, and, in 1999, a 107-CD deluxe edition of Rubinstein’s complete RCA recordings – which reportedly broke the bank and sold poorly until the CDs were issued individually.  During much of this period Sony was headed by Horowitz’s old manager, Peter Gelb.  Under his directions, Sony’s new releases, controversially, included non-Classical “crossover” material with artists including Yo-Yo Ma recording an album of Americana; electronic composer Vangelis recorded an album; and James Horner’s score to the film Titanic which – whether or not one agreed with including film scores under a Classical label – sold like gangbusters and made a lot of money for the label.  During this era Sony’s reissues included a well-engineered reissue of Horowitz’s complete Columbia recordings and a lavish box of composer Igor Stravinsky’s recordings.   

It was also during the Gelb era that RCA found itself in a position to be acquired and, fortuitously, it was Sony which took RCA over.  Suddenly, America’s two largest classical labels were one enormous label.

With access to both the RCA’s and Columbia’s deep back-catalogues, Sony produced some excellent boxed sets which have done their core artists proud: not just the big boys like Toscanini, Bruno Walter, Szell, Rubinstein, Heifetz, Horowitz, and Glenn Gould; but Pierre Boulez, Robert Casadesus, Cliburn, Graffman, Janis, William Kapell, Murray Perahia, Charles Rosen, both Rudolf Serkin and his son Peter, André Watts, and others too numerous to mention. 

A selection from some of Sony Classical's many 

Original Album boxed sets. 

(The Horowitz photo includes a few DG recordings.)

During this period, many claimed these issues were folly and that the era of the CD was over as the era of streaming approached.  But sales of both CDs and LPs increased during COVID, and most of the boxed sets mentioned above sold out almost immediately upon issuance – necessitating reprints and creating a lucrative resell market on eBay and other sites.

Then, last year, there was a bloodbath at Sony.  Those with knowledge of the of the label’s storied history and the ability to restore the historic recordings were given the ax.  No reason was given for this evisceration – and given the documented strong sales of these boxed sets, it’s difficult to believe they were losing the label money.  So, the reissues came to an end – and at the most inopportune moment.  Collectors were awaiting the final box of Sony’s multi-part Ormandy set comprising his post-1968 RCA recordings.  Pianophiles were also hoping that Sony would, finally, issue Horowitz’s complete privately recorded Carnegie Hall recitals from 1945-1950 – which have been floating around on the internet in poor sounding transfers.

Sony’s classical department has now been downsized so that what was once a Mississippi River of releases has slowed to a trickle.  The back-catalogue is now ignored and at this rate, Sony’s Classical division is seems poised to downsize itself out of business in the very near future. 

Brahms, Martinů, and Kaprálová with Hrůša at Severance

This weekend’s Cleveland Orchestra concerts featured the return of guest conductor Jakub Hrůša, leading the orchestra in works both familiar and unfamiliar.

The concert opened with the Symphony No. 3 in F major, Op. 90 by Johannes Brahms.  Although it is a relatively popular symphony, it’s challenging to perform.  Even structural masters like Toscanini struggled with this work.  Hrůša plunged headlong into the opening movement, which included the repeat.  Despite the constant sense of momentum and pulse, it never seemed rushed.  The second movement was beautifully contemplative with unexaggerated pianissimos in the high strings.  The third movement, with its popular theme, featured plasticity of phrasing without descending into schmaltz.  This brought us to a finale featuring bracing syncopation and exhilaration leading to the work’s serene end.

Following intermission, Hrůša returned to conduct the Symphony No. 3 by Bohuslav Martinů.  I’d never heard this work before, either in concert or on recordings.  So, I can only comment that the work was plainly written during the Second World War.  An atmosphere of stark foreboding runs through much of the work, yet it wasn’t without moments of joy.  I look forward to familiarizing myself more with this piece.

The concert’s final work was Vítězslava Kaprálová’s Military Sinfonietta, Op. 11.  This piece was composed nearly a decade before the Martinů – even though he was Kaprálová’s teacher (and, briefly, lover).  This is the work of a young and talented composer, with numerous interesting passages, yet it does not quite gel.  Sadly, Kaprálová died when she was 25, so one is left wondering “what might have been.”

Both post-intermission works were being played by the orchestra for the first time, yet the performances were entirely assured and polished – testimony to the skills of both the orchestra and the conductor.  With the departure of music director Franz Welser-Möst in just over a year, I’ve little doubt that Hrůša is a serious contender for the post.

Music of Unsuk Chin and Richard Strauss at Severance

As befits the shortest month of the year, this evening’s Cleveland Orchestra program at Severance Hall, which featured guest conductor  Alain Altinoglu and cellist Alisa Weilerstein, was about the briefest I’ve ever encountered at a Classical music concert – just about an hour’s worth of music.  Whatever the program lacked in length was made up for in variety and substance. 

The program opened with Unsuk Chin’s Cello Concerto, composed in 2009, featuring Weilerstein in the solo part.  The work is scored for a large orchestra, supplemented with piano and celeste.  As with subito con forza, which was performed by the orchestra two years ago, Chin seems more interested in orchestration and sonic textures than with thematic development.  Totally atonal, the work shows the continuing influence of Chin’s teacher György Ligeti.  Weilerstein, a frequent and welcome guest in Cleveland, made the most of Chin’s unorthodox writing, which included rasping and scraping – as well as delivering some haunting lyricism in the third movement.  Weilerstein played a short Bach work in a major key as an encore.

The Richard Strauss works followed intermission.  Let’s put one matter front and center: The Cleveland Orchestra has been considered one of the world’s great orchestras for the music of Richard Strauss for nearly 70 years – going back to the George Szell era.  In fact, the first recordings I ever heard of the tone poems featured in this evening’s concert were with this orchestra led by Lorin Maazel – way back when I was a teenager.  The recording also featured Strauss’s Death and Transfiguration which, even then, struck me as the greatest of the three.

Altinoglu started with Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks, based on the 16^th Century German folk hero.  As the story goes, Till Eulenspiegel, who may or may not have been a real person, was a prankster whose targets were often those in power, including clergy and academics.  Eventually, the authorities caught up with the naughty prankster and, as reflected in the music, he paid the ultimate price with a one-way trip to the gallows.  The 16^th Century was definitely a “tough on crime” era.  But the work’s coda, where the merry theme returns, assures the audience that his spirit lives on.  This is the kind of work which, if played “straight,” will die.  Altinoglu caught the work’s humor and shifted moods effortlessly, helped by pin-point turns by the orchestra.     

The character of Don Juan is more familiar: a rebellious Spanish libertine or, in modern psychobabble, a sex addict.  He also has a gambling problem and kills the father of one of his conquests.  Dude’s got issues.  As with Till Eulenspiegel, Don Juan dies for his sins – but in this case the death is self-inflicted.  Dark stuff indeed.  But the tone poem starts off with a brash major key fanfare, because pursuing and obtaining sex is fun – at least in moderation.  The fact that Don Juan is rebelling against an overly strict father is icing on the cake.  Just don’t fall in love or things will get complicated.  Again, Altinoglu’s conception was a model of phrasing, pacing, and clarity.  The Cleveland Orchestra proved once again that it retains its crown as a great orchestra for this kind of repertoire, and special mention must be made of Nathaniel Silberschlag’s horn solo which featured the most unearthly legato I’ve ever heard from that instrument. 

 

A reminder that Severance Hall's acoustics were 

once far less appealing than they are today.

 

 

Manacorda and Hadelich with the Cleveland Orchestra at Severance

This weekend’s Cleveland Orchestra concerts featured guest conductor Antonello Manacorda along with the welcome return of one of the greatest violinists of our time, Augustin Hadelich.  The orchestra is fresh from its triumphant performances at Carnegie Hall, where they received rave reviews. 

The concert opened with Mendelssohn’s popular Violin Concerto in E minor, Op. 64.  This is a composition that balances Classical rigor with Romantic expression, with all three movements linked via bridge passages.  Nearly every violinist of note has performed and recorded this concerto.  Having heard Hadelich several times, I was looking forward to his interpretation and was not disappointed.  Violinist and orchestra delivered a performance which was intimate and emphasized the work’s lyrical aspects.  One highlight was in the central movement where Hadelich’s soaring lyricism held the audience’s rapt attention.  The finale eschewed all shallow virtuosity while not sacrificing brilliance – it was swift without sounding rushed.  A standing ovation was followed by an encore, a bluesy piece that was at once familiar and unfamiliar.

 

Following intermission, Manacorda returned to lead the orchestra in Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony No. 2.  I’m familiar with this work only through recordings and will confess that I have not assimilated it enough to be able to comment on the performance except that the work was delivered with an appropriate starkness.

The closing work was Schubert’s famed Symphony No. 8 in B minor, D. 759, by Schubert – the so-called “Unfinished” Symphony.  Manacorda began the work with stillness, as if it was arising from nothing, making this all too familiar work a mystery once more.  As the introduction segued to the main theme, I was stuck once again by what an unconventional opening movement this is.  Manacorda is one of those rare musicians who understands the importance of silence, and those moments of stillness served to make the movement’s turbulent episodes all the more dramatic – even traumatic.  For those who follow such matters, Manacorda observed the repeat.  The second movement featured a relatively flowing tempo, with the melody in the high violins beautifully floating over the strings.  Again, Manacorda took care to keep the orchestra at a true pianissimo when the score indicated it.  The concert ended in a contemplative and serene mood – far removed from our stressful era.

 

Mozart and Shostakovich Symphonies at Severance

Contrasting symphonies from the 18^th and 20^th centuries were on the program at this weekend’s Cleveland Orchestra concerts led by music director Franz Welser-Möst.

First, a personal note: I was returning from a quick trip to Florida yesterday and landed in Cleveland a mere three and a half hours before the concert.  I collected my luggage, raced home, had dinner, and headed to Severance Hall in time for the pre-concert lecture.  What I had not anticipated was that, despite wearing my noise-cancelling Air Pods during the flights, my tinnitus was aggravated by the plane ride.  Accordingly, I had some difficulty hearing high frequencies during the concert.  I was also quite tired.  Fortunately, the concert was made available via the Adella app and I was able to watch again in the morning before writing this review. 

The concert began with one of my favorite symphonies: Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 in C major, K. 551 – the so-called “Jupiter.”  The nickname likely originates with the work’s first publisher, who probably appended it to add to the sales appeal for the work’s first publication a few years after Mozart’s death.  The composer created this work, his last symphony, in a mere 16 days.  It was one of several works composed for a concert in 1788 which apparently never took place, and it appears the work was never performed in Mozart’s lifetime.  The work has a propulsive quality that anticipates what Beethoven would achieve early in the following century.  Welser-Möst’s approach balanced this propulsiveness with Viennese elegance, favoring transparent textures and tempos that were on the fast side, particularly in the work’s second movement.  Welser-Möst injected some humor into the Menuetto’s trio via some naughty rubato – maybe as a reminder that Mozart liked to imbibe. 

Dmitri Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 11 in G minor, Op. 103 – titled “The Year 1905” by the composer, could hardly be more different than Mozart’s.  About the only thing the two works have in common is that they both have four movements – but even this similarity is deceptive as Mozart’s are distinctive while Shostakovich’s are interconnected.  The latter composer’s work is double the length of Mozart’s, uses a much larger orchestra, ends tragically, and commemorates an event: the  Russian Revolution of 1905, which began with the massacre by Tsar Nicholas II’s guards against workers who were delivering a petition protesting working conditions.  Further protests and strikes followed, capped by a mutiny on the Battleship Potemkin, which forced the Tsar to grudgingly accept some reforms which instituted a Constitutional monarchy.  The reforms were watered down over the next twelve years, which led to the 1917 Revolution which gave the world the Soviet Union – a new form of totalitarianism.

As for the Symphony itself, I first became familiar with the work’s opening during Carl Sagan’s 1980 series, Cosmos, and later the soundtrack LP from the series.  The world premiere recording by Stokowski was featured and I eventually bought the complete performance, which imprinted itself in my mind as how the work went.  In retrospect, as the work was new, neither Stokowski nor the Houston Symphony Orchestra had fully assimilated it, and as gorgeous as the 1958 sound was for the time, the interpretation as a whole was sectionalized.  Welser-Möst brought a much more direct, cohesive approach to the sprawling work.  The opening, set on the Square of the Tsar’s Winter Palace, was atmospheric without being blurry, with chaste horn and trumpet solos from Nathaniel Silberschlag and Michael Sachs.   Throughout the movement, Welser-Möst kept the dynamics muted, which made the crescendos of the second movement all the more startling.  This movement, which depicts the brutal massacre of the 9^th of January, was brilliantly brought off; seldom have I heard the climax presented with such controlled, mechanistic violence.  The third movement, titled Eternal Memory, was given a restrained performance, which is unusual in Shostakovich interpretation; but it worked and set the stage for the devastating finale.

Though this symphony was completed in the Soviet Union of 1957, and the orchestra planned for this program months in advance, my mind still made a connection to the events in this country over the past year – particularly the recent murder of a Minneapolis woman at the hands of an ICE officer this past week.  In Lee County Florida, a Donald Trump stronghold, I saw an anti-ICE protest on my way to the airport, and there were larger protests all over the country.  It seems that after the events of the last few months – the increasingly disturbing revelations of the Epstein report; the US intervention in Venezuela, which is entirely about oil; Trump’s threats against Greenland; and the continued oppression of US citizens – that the American people are finally awakening to the growing danger from within. 

Ravel and Ligeti at Severance Hall

Tonight’s Cleveland Orchestra concert featured a pair of piano concertos performed by guest soloist Yuja Wang, with by guest conductor Petr Popelka.

The opening work was Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand, commissioned by pianist Paul Wittgenstein, who lost his right arm due to injuries suffered during the First World War.  Based on his recordings, Wittgenstein (who’s younger brother Ludwig went to elementary school with Adolf Hitler) was not a top-tier pianist.  Yuja Wang is, of course, an extraordinarily gifted pianist, and her gifts were especially well suited to this concerto.  It wasn’t a question of mere technique, although her accuracy, layering of notes, clear articulation, and mastery of the pedal were apparent.  Wang also played with a sense of direction and narrative sweep which are too often missed in performances of this work. Popelka and the orchestra delivered an accompaniment which deemphasized the lusher aspects of the work in favor of a grittier approach.  For example, the opening contrabassoon solo  sounded more menacing than usual. 

The second work was the Concerto for Piano and Orchestra by György Ligeti.  As brilliantly played as the work was by Wang and the orchestra, I could not find myself warming to the piece, which served only to aggravate my tinnitus. 

Wang generously performed two encores: A Latin-sounding rag piece which was unfamiliar to me, and the finale movement from Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata – which really brought the house down. 

Since many reviews and articles featuring Yuja Wang focus on her couture, I’ll mention that she wore a black dress during the Ravel, and quickly changed into a more colorful one for the Ligeti and encores. 

At intermission, we peeked outside and saw snowfall substantial enough to persuade us to make a premature exit, so we did not stay for the second half of the concert.  As it was, it took us far longer than usual to get home. 

 

Revueltas and Dvořák with Stasevska at Severance

The Cleveland Orchestra continued its contemporary practice of commingling the familiar with the unfamiliar in this weekend’s concerts with guest conductor Dalia Stasevska at Severance Hall.

Silvestre Revueltas’s La Noche de los Mayas was originally created as the score for the 1939 film of the same name, with which I am not familiar.  20 years later, José Yves Limantour arranged the music into a four-movement suite in a manner which structurally resembles a symphony.  The orchestration is highly eclectic; in addition to the usual instruments are the Indian drum, congas, bongos, güiro, metal rattle, and conch shell.  The work opens with a longing theme in A minor before moving into a Scherzo movement that features exhilarating cross rhythms.  From there a romantic andante, titled Night of Yucatán, leads directly into the finale - an extroverted theme and variations which includes shouts from the percussionists.  This is a highly interesting work that is new to me, and I’m looking forward to hearing it again on the orchestra’s Adella app.  The audience response was highly enthusiastic. 

Antonín Dvořák’s best known work is undoubtedly his Symphony No. 9 in E minor, Op. 95 - titled “From the New World.”  The story of this work’s creation scarcely needs repeating: the composer, originally from what today is known as the Czech Republic, spent three years in the United States, during which he studied African-American and Native music.  The Symphony is one of several compositions from that era and has been a repertoire favorite for over a Century.  It can be argued that the Cleveland Orchestra is America’s premier Dvořák ensemble, having recorded his Symphonies from the time Erich Leinsdorf was music director onwards.  One can’t avoid mentioning George Szell, who recorded the complete Slavonic Dances, the Piano Concerto (with soloist Rudolf Firkusny), and the last three Symphonies – all of which are considered reference recordings.  Christoph von Dohnányi also made fine recordings of the Slavonic Dances and the four last Symphonies.  While the origins of several of the work’s themes have been analyzed over the decades, what is not often pointed out is that Dvořák’s last symphony is as well structured as any of its counterparts by Brahms, with a thematic cross referencing that enhances the work’s symphonic unity.  As a result of this, this symphony can withstand a variety of interpretive approaches: from the structurally strict Toscanini to the wayward Stokowski.  Franz Welser-Möst led this work in 2023, offering an interpretation that favored a classical, architectonic approach.  Stasevska’s way with this work was more rhapsodic.  True, she observed the first movement repeat, but the freedom of phrasing and plasticity of tempo, not to mention her attention to dynamics, heightened the opening movement’s sense of adventure.  The Largo movement was unusually broad and meditative, with a beautifully sustained cor anglais solo; and the finale was simply epic.  This was a performance to remember, and the audience held its breath as the final notes faded away.

With music director Franz Welser-Möst’s contract ending in less than two years, every appearance by a guest conductor at Severance takes on the nature of an audition.  This is particularly the case when those guest conductors are not currently under contract, as is the case with Stasevska.  Based on both the performance and the audience response at tonight’s concert, Stasevska is definitely a contender.