Cathy Jean Little Sick Twist

This is a nice little selection of the chamber music of Darius Milhaud featuring clarinet, violin, and piano in varying combinations, beginning with the brief Suite for all three instruments. There's a gentleness and wittiness in most of this music – although Milhaud could also be dolorous, for example in the introduction of the Suite's finale – primarily because he drew on themes from his stage music for the Suite, Scaramouche, and the Cinéma fantaisie d'après Le bœuf sur le toit, not to mention the presence of his trademark infectious Brazilian rhythms. The Violin Sonata No. 2 and the Clarinet Sonatina are slightly more serious in mood, and in the case of the Sonatina, more harmonically adventurous. The three musicians here – clarinetist Jean-Marc Fessard, violinist Frédéric Pélassy, and pianist Eliane Reyes – work excellently together to bring the music to life. Their ensemble work in the Suite is sharply precise. Even in the Sonata and Sonatina, there is a sense that it's not all just about the violin or clarinet. Pélassy and Fessard allow Reyes to bring out the piano part to show that the works are often more like true duets, for example in Scaramouche's dizzying opening or the Violin Sonata's Vif movement. The Fantaisie is a more of a duet almost by necessity because there's so much going on in it, but without a doubt it's the violin that gets the spotlight with some fancy effects (such as playing in two keys at once) and even a cadenza that's not in the original work. The three musicians also give detailed attention to coloring in a natural, instinctive-sounding way.

This is Volume 4 in Jean-Efflam Bavouzet’s project to record the complete piano sonatas of Haydn. The last volume in the series (CHAN10689) was a Critic’s Choice in Gramophone, an Instrumental Choice in the magazine BBC Music, Editor’s Choice in the magazine Classic FM, and Recording of the Month in MusicWeb International. In the words of Bavouzet himself: ‘Each volume of this ambitious, extended project will arrive over the years like a postcard, dispatched during my travels with scant respect for chronological considerations, but undertaken with the greatest passion for trying to convey as vividly as possible to twenty-first-century ears the boundless treasures of this sublime music.’

Antonio Salieri’s Falstaff is not Verdi’s and never will be. That out of the way, it’s a charming evening’s entertainment, occasionally quite funny, with nicely characterized roles, swell, brief melodies, excellent, spicy wind writing (vividly played here on period instruments and recorded in such a way that the sonics favor them), and nice forward propulsion. The action moves quickly and pointedly, the dry recitatives are frequent but never too long, and when they do go on, the cast here is clever and involved enough to make them dramatically viable.

Antonio Vivaldi's probably early Nisi Dominus, RV 608, and Stabat Mater, RV 621, both for solo voice and ensemble, have received several top-notch recordings, so the listener can pick on the basis of voice type and stylistic preference. Countertenor David Daniels has essayed the pair with Fabio Biondi and his Europa Galante ensemble, and you can hear the preternaturally rich contralto Sara Mingardo in a reading with the fiery Italian Baroque specialist Rinaldo Alessandrini. Here you get a countertenor, Philippe Jaroussky, in the Nisi Dominus and a female contralto, Canadian Marie-Nicole Lemieux, in the Stabat Mater. The pairing robs the whole of unity at one level, but makes musical sense; the Nisi Dominus is a more athletic work that benefits from the power of the male voice, while the Stabat Mater, especially in Vivaldi's truncated and highly dramatic setting, may require the audience to identify with a female singer.

Along with Wit's Naxos recording, this is one of the best versions of Messiaen's phantasmagoric Turangalîla-Symphonie available, and it's very different: swifter, more obviously virtuosic in concept, perhaps a touch less warm in consequence, and engineered with greater “in your face” immediacy. The playing of the Concertgebouw, always a wonderful Messiaen orchestra, is stunning throughout. Chailly revels in the music's weirdness. The Ondes Martinot, for example, is particularly well captured. It's interesting how earlier performances tended to minimize its presence, perhaps for fear that is would sound silly, which of course it does, redeemed by the composer's utter seriousness and obliviousness to anything that smacks of humor. In any case, it's not all noise and bluster. The Garden of Love's Sleep is gorgeous, hypnotic, but happily still flowing, while the three Turangalîla rhythmic studies have remarkable clarity. Jean-Yves Thibaudet plays the solo piano part magnificently, really as well as anyone else ever has.

We possess many works by Jean Richafort, but very little biographical information on the composer. In the 16th century he was the object of veneration and admiration. The great Ronsard himself spoke of him in the most enthusiastic terms, and most of his contemporaries - Mouton, Morales, Gombert, Palestrina - based Masses on his music.

The upbeat rhythms and charismatic persona of Big Twist always afforded this group an accessibility greater than that of most hardcore Chicago blues acts. This debut set followed the same formula, mixing time-tested favorites such as Tyrone Davis' "Turn Back the Hands of Time" with the inevitable crowd-pleaser "The Sweet Sound of Rhythm & Blues."