What you've got here are King Oliver's final recordings as a leader. Big bands were still figuring themselves out in 1930, moving from one decade's definitive flavor into another stylistic space as yet unspecified. Hovering over everything was the gruesome specter of fiscal disaster. This did strange things to the music business. Pop culture became partly mummified by a creeping sentimentality that would emerge again during the age of Cold War conformity. During the 1930s and the 1950s jazz endured and continued to evolve, as it always will under any circumstances. With his best decade behind him, King Oliver presided over an orchestra that occasionally sounds a bit sleepy…
One of the most famous sets of recordings in jazz history presented here complete and in stunning quality transfers by John R.T. Davies himself. Sleeve notes by Oliver-authority Laurie Wright. The complete set of the recordings by Louis Armstrong, Johnny Dodds and Oliver himself. For bonus points, the two very rare King Oliver, Jelly Roll Morton duets and the pair of sides by Butterbeans and Susie with King Oliver accompaniments. The only word for this CD is "Definitive". The first great black jazz band on record.
The friendship between Mátyás Seiber and Antal Doráti dates back to their youth, when they were the two youngest students in Zoltán Kodály's composition class in Budapest in the 1920s. Doráti was one year younger than Seiber and held him in high esteem from the beginning. In the memoirs, Így láttuk Kodályt [‘Thus We Saw Kodály’], he writes the following: "The two 'best' were Mátyás Seiber and Lajos Bárdos. Matyi [Mátyás] wrote a great string quartet at the time, which has survived. One of our tasks was to write variations on a Handel theme. In response to one of Seiber's slow-tempo variations, Mr Kodály said: 'That's nice'. In our eyes - at least in my eyes - that was the canonization of Matyi".
After the signal event that was World War I, gifted young composers trooped into the French metropolis full of hope. In 1925, the publisher Michel Dillard coined the term L’École de Paris (‘The Paris School’) in reference to the foreign composers then living in Paris, principally the Hungarian Tibor Harsányi (1898–1954), Poland’s Alexandre Tansman (1897–1986), Bohuslav Martinů from Czechoslovakia (1890–1959), Russia’s Alexander Tcherepnin (1899–1977), and the Romanian Marcel Mihalovici (1898–1985), all of whose works he specialised in disseminating. These composers came to Paris from Eastern Europe and all, with the exception of Martinů [and Swiss composer Conrad Beck (1901–1989)], died there. All five initially addressed the difficult task of translating their countries’ folk music idioms into standard musical notation. Several works on this programme are heard in their world premiere recordings.
Magnus Lindberg burst onto the contemporary music scene in the 1980s with his early work Kraft (as in "power", and not the American food conglomerate and inventor of Velveeta cheese by-product substance), an avant-garde spectacular that took the "sound mass" procedures of Berio or Xenakis and wedded them to an explosive rhythmic energy. He's broadened his style since then, taking in tonal elements and even the occasional tune, but the rhythmic vitality remains, and his coloristic gifts, his ear for ever new and remarkable instrumental sound combinations, have only increased. Aura is a four-movement symphony as indescribable as it is a joy to hear. Dedicated to the memory of Lutoslawski, the piece shows its composer similarly possessed of a vibrant, communicative personal musical language. Although it plays continuously for about 37 minutes, newcomers to Lindberg's sound creations should start with the finale, a sort of dance that begins with simple tunefulness before finding itself in a sort of riotous minimalist hell. It's hugely fun, as is the entire work.