Tasmanian

Frederick Septimus Kelly was one of Australia's great cultural losses of World War One: a composer the equal of Vaughan Williams, who survived Gallipoli but was cut down in the final days of the Battle of the Somme. His music – crafted entirely in his head, and only committed to paper once perfected – displays touching lyricism and profound invention. Even during the war, he never stopped writing music: on troop ships during long ocean crossings, in training camps, in the trenches of Gallipoli, in a military hospital recovering from war wounds, in a bombed-out cellar barely 300 metres from enemy lines in France. This album presents his complete catalogue of orchestral works, many recorded here for the first time.

With this 29th volume in the Romantic Piano Concerto series we commence a cycle of three CDs that we hope will include all eight of Moscheles' piano concertos. It also marks the start of our exploration of concertos from the earlier part of the 19th century, which we have so far rather neglected.

The continuation of our survey of Moscheles piano concertos brings us to three works which have never been recorded before. The 1st Concerto, written in 1819, is a very Mozartean affair; though the young composer had become a friend of Beethoven it seems the example of that composer's last three concertos hadn't been followed, instead we have a work full of charm, grace and untroubled lyrical melody.

Howard Shelley’s third disc in Hyperion’s traversal of the complete extant piano concertos by Ignaz Moscheles brings us triumphant performances of the fourth and fifth concertos which are complemented by a spirited rendition of the Recollections of Ireland, composed almost by way of thanks for divine deliverance from a storm-tossed crossing of the Irish Sea in 1826.

Howard Shelley directs the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra from the piano in this latest volume of The Romantic Piano Concerto series. As ever, they perform unknown music with consummate style and deep understanding, making the best possible case for the works. We have reached Volume 63 and the works of French composer Benjamin Godard, a figure who is almost totally forgotten today. He is described by Jeremy Nicholas in his booklet note as ‘a composer who combines the sentimental melodic appeal of Massenet with the fecundity and technical facility of Saint-Saëns’.

The Romantic Piano Concerto series reaches Volume 61, and continues to probe into the obscurest depths of the nineteenth-century piano world. Döhler’s Piano Concerto in A major and Dreyschock’s Salut à Vienne are both first recordings. The two composer-pianists were contemporaries, both child prodigies and both hugely admired in their day. Today their names are not even faintly familiar to concert-goers.

If the warmly Romantic bloom on these concertos suggests the spirit of an earlier generation—both works date from the 1880s—the music of Stéphan Elmas retains its own distinctive voice, a voice heard to best advantage in Howard Shelley's persuasive accounts.