Sorry, no English review. Daniel Zimmermann (trombone), Maxime Fougères (guitare), Julien Charlet (batterie), Jérôme Regard (contrebasse) proposent un album de huit compositions originales, dont six écrites pour septet (avec quatre trombones) et deux pour quintet (avec deux trombones). Des compositions basées sur des thèmes simples et des lignes de basse entêtantes, qui développent des climats prenants et souvent ambivalents.
Phillips' Great Pianists of the 20th Century issue has gotten a lot of publicity in the ten or so years since it has been released. In a musical niche suffering from falling revenues, it was a decent seller. But it left many connoisseurs disappointed, as the quality was limited to the fancy packaging.
Jean-Pierre Rampal is often considered the greatest flutist of the modern era. In addition to his exceptional talent, he raised the flute to unprecedented solo status, popularizing the flute literature, the flute recital and flute recordings. The rediscovery of the Baroque, Classical and Romantic repertoire for the flute is one of his outstanding achievements, as well as his numerous collaborations with composers; over 100 works have been written for and premiered by him. He recorded for Erato from the mid-1950s, with many discs receiving awards internationally. This is the second of four boxed sets comprising the complete Erato recordings (1954 to 1982) and the complete HMV recordings (1952-1976), gathered together for the first time. The set ranges from the masterpieces of Mozart, Handel and Bach to modern repertoire by Damase and Arma.
No prizes for predicting that this Liszt B minor Sonata is technically flawless and beautifully structured. What may come as more of a shock (though not to those who have followed Pollini's career closely) is its sheer passion. To say that he plays as if his life depended on it is an understatement, and those who regularly accuse him of coolness should sit down in a quiet room with this recording, a decent hi-fi system and a large plateful of their own words. The opening creates a sense of coiled expectancy, without recourse to a mannered delivery such as Brendel's on Philips, and Pollini's superior fingerwork is soon evident. His virtuosity gains an extra dimension from his ability at the same time to convey resistance to it—the double octaves are demonstrably a fraction slower than usual and yet somehow feel faster, or at least more urgent.