Auerbach. Dvořák. Weinberg Piano Trios Trio Zimbalist

The Beaux Arts, late 1980s-style, is recognizably the same creature as it was at the start of the decade, or even two decades ago. The fingers of Menahem Pressler still twinkle away, the violin and cello exchange angst for mischief in volatile and ebullient alternation. The most obvious comparison for their latest release is the identical Dvorak/Mendelssohn coupling of 1980 on Pearl. Then Daniel Guilet was the violinist, and his comparatively small voice and old-style sweetness make their mark: this Dvorak is a small-scale, kid-glove performance, with the gentle acoustic recessing the violin even further and softening the high-spirited Dumka episodes.

The Beaux Arts, late 1980s-style, is recognizably the same creature as it was at the start of the decade, or even two decades ago. The fingers of Menahem Pressler still twinkle away, the violin and cello exchange angst for mischief in volatile and ebullient alternation. The most obvious comparison for their latest release is the identical Dvorak/Mendelssohn coupling of 1980 on Pearl. Then Daniel Guilet was the violinist, and his comparatively small voice and old-style sweetness make their mark: this Dvorak is a small-scale, kid-glove performance, with the gentle acoustic recessing the violin even further and softening the high-spirited Dumka episodes.

This two-CD set pulls together the Borodin Trio's recordings of all four of Dvorák's piano trios into one package. These were originally recorded between 1983 and 1992, and despite the different dates, there is a consistency of sound in them. That sound has an ambient coldness that isn't warmed up by the music, and it balances the instruments almost equally, to the point where when the piano has the melody it doesn't stick out much from the violin and cello. It leaves the impression that hearing the Borodin Trio live would be the best way to fully appreciate its performance, because even if it were in a bad sounding hall, you would still be able to see their reactions to the music and each other.

This two-hour double-disc set of Joseph Rheinberger's complete piano trios is a hefty contribution to the rehabilitation of the composer's oeuvre, though it may be more than the average listener can appreciate in one sitting. Rheinberger's music is earnest and perhaps too heavy for some tastes, and it may even seem too stodgy and dryly theoretical. In his mature Romantic style, his reliance on Classical form, and his pensive expression, Rheinberger often resembles Brahms, though it must be said that he lacks Brahms' rhythmic ingenuity, contrapuntal dexterity, and emotional depth.

The music of Mieczys?aw Weinberg continues to be issued, and continues to impress. Like his British counterpart, York Bowen, Weinberg was a composer trapped in time and place, and it is good that their very different musics are now coming to the fore with such regularity. One of the wonderful things about this disc, aside from the committed, intense playing of the instrumentalists, is the sound: crisp and clear, with only a very little reverb, which brings the sound of the instruments into sharp focus and makes the listener pay attention to the music.

This duo set unites all of Brahms’ Piano Trios, masterpieces of the genre, in performances of integrity and beauty from the Trio Fontenay.

This is the second disc devoted by the Chinese-German Trio Parnassus to the chamber music of Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia, the dedicatee of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 3. The prince was an aristocratic patron for whom the irascible Beethoven actually had musical respect, noting that he played not "in a princely or royal manner but rather like a competent piano player." Ferdinand, who was killed by Napoleon's troops in 1806, in turn venerated Beethoven, but the strongest tribute to his talent is that as a composer he wrote music that neither aped Beethoven's nor took refuge in Classical models.