The friendship between the horn virtuoso Joseph Leutgeb and Mozart produced a bumper crop of compositions: four, maybe even five, concertos for horn and orchestra as well as the Horn Quintet KV 407.
Virtuoso musician and professor of classical double bass at the Paris Conservatoire, Jean-Paul Celea is one of those rare soloists who is as convincing in classical or contemporary music as in jazz – where the rigour of his aesthetic choices and openness to the freest forms of today's music are served by a sumptuous sonority. Constantly affirming his taste for bridges, Celea is now initiating this new trio with his longstanding accomplice Wolfgang Reisinger, a major player on the Austrian scene, in particular within the Vienna Art Orchestra. Sought after by such masters as Dave Liebman and Joachim Kühn, their tandem stands out as one of the most luxurious European rhythmics of the time.
Korngold was just 23 when his most celebrated stage work was premiered in 1920 by no less than Otto Klemperer. The rich orchestration and brilliant bel canto vocal writing is here superbly realised by a cast led by Klaus Florian Vogt and Camilla Nylund, with 'conducting to die for' (The Guardian ★★★★★) from Mikko Franck. 'I regard Die tote Stadt as one of the greatest operas of the first quarter of the 20th century and the Finnish National Opera’s production makes it stand out as a true masterpiece, scenically and musically.' (Seen and Heard International)
Mackerras’s series of opera recordings, with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, has a character very much its own, deriving from his natural feeling for the dramatic pacing of Mozart’s music and the expressive and allusive nature of its textures, as well as the Scottish Chamber Orchestra’s sensitivity and responsiveness to him. These are not period-instrument performances (except in that natural horns and trumpets are used, to good effect), but Mackerras’s manner of articulation, and the lightness of the phrasing he draws from his strings, makes it, to my mind, a lot closer to a true period style than some of the performances that make a feature of period instruments and then use them to modern ends (I am thinking less here of British conductors than some from Europe).
Deus Passus is one quarter of the Passion Project 2000, which celebrated not only the turning of the millennium but also commemorated the 250th anniversary of Bach’s death. German conductor Helmuth Rilling honored this occasion by commissioning Passions from four disparate composers: Wolfgang Rihm, Tan Dun, Sofia Gubaidulina, and Osvaldo Golijov. Deus Passus is a setting of the Passion according to St. Luke, and it is a marvel of a piece for many reasons. For a full hour and a half, with music that is mostly slow and largely atonal (in the sense that Berg’s music is atonal), the twisting, aching, unpredictable harmonies are totally captivating. Rihm chooses a straightforward setting, a simple, dramatic telling of the story, and it is in his capacity for restraint that the true brilliance of the piece lies. He uses the chorus sparingly, mostly for dramatic purposes, having it portray the angry rabble bent on crucifying Jesus (as it often does in Bach’s passions).