Chopin: Etudes.
Murray Perahia, piano. Andreas Neubronner, producer and engineer. Sony 61885

Liszt: Paganini Studies; Schubert March Transcriptions.
Marc-Andr? Hamelin, piano. Simon Eadon, producer; Andrew Keener, engineer. Hyperion 67370

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Liszt: Piano Sonata. Chopin: Sonata No. 3.
Alan Gampel, piano. Gampel and Pierre Sprey, producers; Sprey, engineer. Mapleshade 07382

Chopin and Liszt are twin pillars of the Romantic piano repertory, and for large portions of their output only A-list virtuosos need apply. Since they require power and flair that didn?t match his lyrical sensibilities, there was a time when a Murray Perahia recording of Chopin?s Etudes wasn?t an enticing prospect. But in recent years, Perahia?s playing, always admirable if a touch bland, has become more extroverted; his technique more assured; his penetration of the music more profound. His recent Bach recordings and this new disc of Chopin?s complete Etudes prove he?s now among the elite.

You can hear this in the first ?tude of the Op. 10 set, with its miraculous transformation of a chorale-like theme into dazzling arpeggios and thunderous power. Perahia?s confident flair turns it into a compelling drama. Time and again, his scintillating right-hand keyboard runs dazzle with their liquidity and precise articulation. Left-hand bass lines are firmly placed, and, when necessary, abundantly robust?amply demonstrated in the final ?tude of Op. 25. His always beautifully rounded tone now displays a wider range of subtle colors, broadening an already substantial palette. What makes this recording so special though, is the way Perahia characterizes each of these 24 gems, giving each a distinctive profile sometimes lost in other versions.

He?s not perfect; he doesn?t fully plumb the depths of Op. 10 No. 3 and others find more humor in the clunky left-hand figurations of Op. 10 No. 2, among other places where the smile in Perahia?s playing could be broader. Ideally too, one would prefer a more thrustful ?Revolutionary Etude? than Perahia gives us. One or two others sound slightly cautious. But these are minor quibbles. Perahia?s version is now the preferred complete Chopin Etudes, a recommendation sealed by vivid engineering that captures the full color and dynamic spectrum of his playing. The close-up sound is defined to the point where dying bass notes, like the ones at the close of Op. 10 No. 10, slowly sink into silence rather than fading prematurely.

When it comes to virtuosity though, Marc-Andr? Hamelin trumps the field. There is nothing he can?t play, no matter how difficult. If anything, he makes everything sound too easy; some music profits from a consciousness of the struggle between fingers and keyboard, of insurmountable difficulties overcome. Sometimes, as in his recent Schumann disc, one admires Hamelin?s smooth brilliance while feeling his interpretation is too generic, lacking depth. On the repertory?s fringes?his Alkan and Orenstein discs for example?such doubts never surface; we?re swept away by the power and panache of his pianism.

Liszt too, is right up Hamelin?s alley. The Six Grandes ?tudes de Paganini are virtuoso meat, and Hamelin feeds on them with controlled bravura. His playing can be called showmanship without being showy?i.e., he plays with all the panache you?d want, making it all sound effortless, never calling attention to the virtuosity he, and we, can take for granted. At times, one feels he could dig deeper, as Arrau did to project greater atmosphere and intensity in some of the ?tudes. But such reservations pale alongside Hamelin?s elegant virtuosity, and his final Theme and Variations has the sort of clout that makes you hit the repeat button. His is the recording of the Paganini Studies to get.

Its disc mate is a real oddity: Liszt?s three-movement, two-hand arrangement of Schubert marches for piano duet. When the two hands are Hamelin?s, you often think you?re hearing four, sometimes six, sets of fingers flying over the keyboard. This is a large-scale work, 33-minutes long, chock-full of lovely melodies (Schubert?s) and amazing keyboard pyrotechnics (Liszt?s). Hamelin?s performance is astounding; he plays with astonishing fluency and since technical difficulties don?t exist for him, focuses on the beauty and worth of the music. The sound? Excellent, slightly more distant than on the Sony Perahia, but transparent and detailed.?

Audiophile label Mapleshade enters the lists with a series of recordings featuring the Fazioli piano, an instrument said to be making a splash in Europe. Alan Gampel plays Chopin and Liszt sonatas in an ultra-detailed, see-through recording with huge dynamic range, the soft passages projected with uncanny solidity. The downside is fatiguing brightness and a light bass, both of which may well be due to the Fazioli, whose lack of midrange mellowness detracts from Romantic music. Gampel has the chops to play these difficult works, but he?s swamped by recorded competition that includes charter members of the pianistic pantheon. His overly detailed readings are objective and prosaic in works that demand personality and poetry. Others invest them with the breadth, tension, and singing phrasing the music requires, but I?d like to hear this talented artist in more congenial repertory.?

-Dan Davis

Mahler: Symphony No. 5.
Berlin Philharmonic, Simon Rattle, conductor. Stephen Johns, producer; Mike Clements, Graham Kirby, and Andy Beer, engineers. EMI 5 57385

?I did it badly when I was young and it burnt me.? Thus Simon Rattle in the October 2002 Gramophone on why he has never recorded Mahler?s Fifth. No further explanation was offered. Yet here, by way of celebrating the beginning of his first season as music director of the Berlin Philharmonic, is this brand new Fifth, recorded in concert this past July. I?ve heard Rattle perform Mahler several times these last fifteen years: always intelligent, committed, enthusiastic, but never great. Until now.

You can tell a lot about what the journey holds from the very beginning. Does the dotted funeral march rhythm have the requisite weight, the slight drag to the beat, and the heaviness on the accents to suggest the depths of loss and despair, trumpets piercing to the very marrow of grief? Here they do, but Rattle?s is not a performance of discrete events or effects; rather, one of tremendous sweep, passion, and urgency. Formally and emotionally, the Fifth may be Mahler?s most complex symphony. It certainly has the most kaleidoscopic range of emotions. And it?s diabolically difficult to keep together structurally: three large parts, the first and last almost schizophrenically opposed and subdivided into two movements each. Yet Rattle manages something far more demanding than merely holding it all together. He inscribes one long, seamless arc from despair to exuberance. He realizes the watershed scherzo?a juggernaut of the most wrenching dislocations and wildly conflicting moods?more completely than any conductor this side of Bernstein. But it?s in the third part that Rattle?s visionary grip finds splendid justification. He plays the Adagietto slightly quicker than is the norm, but with such feeling that the grief and melancholy of the preceding movements are purged, leaving him free to conduct the most joyous, exhilarating rondo I?ve ever heard, drapes pulled aside and windows thrown open to glorious sunlight and intoxicatingly fresh air.

Not since Bernstein?s transcendent Ninth of 1979 has the Berlin Philharmonic been coaxed to sound so idiomatically Mahlerian on record. If this is a harbinger of things to come from Rattle in Berlin, then we are in the lucky position of being witness to a legendary partnership at its inception. EMI?s sonics?miked a little close but otherwise fabulously clean, clear, and detailed, with prodigious dynamics and bass?serve the performance: truly a great one.

-Paul Seydor

Beethoven: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra. Romances.
Anne Sophie-Mutter, violin. New York Philharmonic, Kurt Masur, conductor. Mark Buecker and Reinhild Schmidt, producers; Ulrich Vette, balance engineer; Wolf-Dieter Karwatky and Reinhard Lagemann, engineers. DG 289 471 349

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Talk about extremes. At 48:24, violinist Anne-Sophie Mutter joins Kurt Masur in perhaps the slowest Beethoven Violin Concerto on record. Where Jascha Heifetz plays with dumbfounding speed on his classic versions with Toscanini and Munch, Mutter radically elongates phrases and alters dynamics in an attempt to extend her bow deeply into the heart of Beethoven?s music.

In an enlightening interview included with this beautifully packaged disc, Mutter discusses her youthful 1980 recording of the Concerto conducted by her champion, Herbert von Karajan. While then her tone was uniformly dulcet, perfectly focused, and unfailingly musical, her current bittersweet sound seems at odds with Beethoven?s emotional message. She also now displays a tendency on excursions into the violin?s high register to thin her tone down to an exceedingly fine, vibrato-less white sound that too often stops the musical line dead in its tracks. Oddly enough, after performing the first two movements at very slow tempos, Mutter?s tone becomes sweeter as she picks up speed. Yet even in the spirited finale, indulgences intrude. She plays Kreisler?s cadenza impressively, but with such ferocity as to interrupt the emotional flow of all that comes before. Once through it, her pace radically decelerates as she offers a final flight of whispered whiteness before zipping through her concluding notes.

Masur, alas, is no Karajan. His leisurely orchestral opening borders on sluggish. Elsewhere, his undistinguished support fails to add insight to the proceedings.

Sonics are curious. This 2002 live performance offers far more color than Mutter?s first outing, but is compromised by close miking. Audiophiles who long to hear the resin on the bow will have a field day; there?s much ?ppphhh? from the violin, especially in the central movement, as to allow speculation on the sex of the horse whose tail supplied hair for Mutter?s bow.

When all is said and done, I find myself returning to Mutter?s first traversal, the Menuhin/Furtw?ngler reading, for its incomparable beauty and generosity of spirit, and the new, smaller-scaled Bell/Norrington performance. Kreisler?s 1926 recording, though sonically compromised, and the Heifetz/Toscanini, both remastered by Naxos, offer additional insights.

-Jason Serinus

P?rt: Orient & Occident.
Swedish Radio Choir. Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra, T?nu Kaljuste, conductor. Manfred Eicher and Jan B. Larsson, producers; Sveriges Radio, Anders H?ggl?f, and Rune Sundvall, engineers. ECM New Series 1795

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ECM has done well by Arvo P?rt. Orient & Occident is the label?s tenth release of music by the Estonian master, recordings that date back to 1977. Listeners familiar with P?rt?s esthetic will know what to expect?this music is largely consonant, a singular blend of ancient and contemporary sonorities. It?s deeply spiritual, but devised to engage the mind, not to induce some sort of meditative stupor.

We hear three magnificent specimens of the composer?s art. Wallfahrtslied (Pilgrim?s Song)?originally composed for male vocalist and string quartet, but here revised for men?s choir and string orchestra?is a setting of Psalm 121, gleaming and dramatically pointed. With Orient & Occident, the seven minute piece from which the CD gets its title, one feels a tension between Eastern-inflected melody and a Western sense of ensemble and structural organization?these elements brought together as a coherent, organic whole. Como cierve sedenta, for women?s choir and orchestra, sets Spanish translations of more psalm texts. The starkly beautiful fifth and final movement, especially, lingers in the memory long after the music stops. As with Wallfahrtslied, the choral forces perform only in unison (there are some lovely passages, too, for an unnamed soprano soloist). It may come as a surprise to discover with these three works what an accomplished orchestrator P?rt is, as we are used to thinking of his music as so austere. The writing for strings in Wallfahrtslied has a Mahlerian intensity; Como cierve sedenta is scored for full orchestra, with moments of shimmering luminosity as well as eventful counterpoint to the unperturbed vocal line.

Conductor T?nu Kaljuste leads the performances with great sensitivity, and there can be no complaints about the choral or orchestral execution. ECM provides an exquisite recording, at once spacious and intimate, detailed and warmly natural. Urgently recommended.

-Andrew Quint

Braga Santos: Symphonic Variations. Symphony No. 4.
National Symphony of Ireland, Alvaro Cassuto, conductor. Tim Handley, producer and engineer. Marco Polo 8225233

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Let me begin with an unequivocal statement of extravagant praise: This is unquestionably Portugal?s greatest composer?s greatest symphony. Okay, I?ll admit that Joly Braga Santos (1924-1988), who lived and died in his native Lisbon, isn?t going to dislodge Mahler or Shostakovich from the 20th Century pantheon. Still, Braga Santos? 1951 Fourth Symphony, written when he was only 27, is a grand and gorgeous creation, ablaze with color and drama, filled to the brim with distinctly Portuguese melodies.

As befits a young composer, Braga Santos drew on many sources for this epic (nearly hour-long) piece. Brucknerian monumentalism appears in the premonitory string tremulos that open the work, and in the orchestral blocks of sound that disdain impressionist blendings. The benevolent spirit of Sibelius hovers over its airy, long-lined arabesques unwinding above string pizzicatos in the scherzo, and C?sar Franck over its large-scale cyclic architecture built from primal motivic cells. Its lush modal harmonies recall Vaughan Williams; its panoply and martial grandeur, Respighi; its flamenco rhythmic snap, Rodrigo.

But despite affinities and influences, Braga Santos? cinematic, thrilling, unsubtle but irresistible symphony sounds like no one else. Just listen to the opening prologue, as that three-note motive grows quietly out of the night into a solemn chorale sunrise and then, at three minutes in, under an insistent rhythmic tattoo, arches out into the glorious main theme bursting with the joyous swagger of a triumphant pagan army. The second movement, Andante, evokes a somber processional that slowly approaches, passes before us to grimly pounding drumbeats, then marches off into the distance under receding trumpet-calls. Next, the verdant and outdoorsy Allegro tranquillo scherzo spins out its lovely, cunning melodic transformations of the first movement?s main theme. And to top off the whole structure, a bumptious, dancing finale (with yet more wonderful tunes in Braga Santos? characteristic asymmetrical meters) that concludes with a noble hymn whose broad strophes celebrate life-giving energy and joy. The 15-minute-long, seamlessly connected Symphonic Variations, cut from the same cloth and also written in 1951, is a substantial bonus.

Alvaro Cassuto and his Irish colleagues play with unstinting devotion and enthusiasm. The recording, like the music, is expansive, powerful, and exciting, but not the last word in refinement. Winds and brass fare well, but the strings are just a tad grainy, and big climaxes a bit congested. No matter. The music sweeps you along regardless.

-Mark Lehman

Mozart: Le nozze di Figaro.
Glyndebourne Festival Orchestra and Chorus, Fritz Busch, conductor. (Recorded 1934-35.) Ward Marston, archivist and restoration producer. Naxos? 8.110186-87 (2 CDs)

The opening of Glyndebourne Festival Opera in 1934 marked the beginning of one of opera?s greatest success stories.? The very first production of this remarkable festival was Mozart?s The Marriage of Figaro, and by some miracle, most of it was recorded soon after. Though the loss of the omitted recitatives is regrettable, the thirty-three 78-rpm sides that were created represent not only the first Glyndebourne production, but the first commercial recording of any German opera ever undertaken.

The whole idea of Glyndebourne?an opera house on an English country estate?must have seemed improbable in the 1930s, just as it does today. But John Christie, a wealthy opera enthusiast married to soprano Audrey Mildmay (a talented Mozart singer) decided to go ahead. He managed to secure the services of Fritz Busch, a renowned German conductor fleeing the Nazi regime, as well as Rudolf Bing, who soon became Glyndebourne?s General Manager, and would run the Metropolitan Opera many years later. The New Statesman described the opening night on May 28, 1934: ?It is a tribute to the extraordinary qualities of Mr. Christie that in this theatre on its opening night, last Monday, he gave us the finest production of Mozart?s Figaro that has ever, to my knowledge, been given in this country.?

Here, Figaro is spun seamlessly together on two CDs by engineer Ward Marston, a remastering wizard who has finished most of a complete reissue of the recordings of Enrico Caruso (also on Naxos), and has his own record label, ?Marston.? This Figaro is mono, of course, and cannot compete with modern stereo for imaging. But the voices have surprising vibrancy and presence, and there is very little surface noise.

The tempos would surprise many modern listeners?I cannot imagine even John Eliot Gardiner conducting the overture faster than Fritz Busch. Among a superb cast, Mildmay stands out as a charming Susanna. Her opening scene with Willi Domgraf-Fassb?nder (Figaro) manages to be jolly, but also more intimate than many versions I have heard. Aulikki Rautavaara is a sumptuous Countess.

We are fortunate that in addition to Figaro, there are complete recordings, with recitatives, of Glyndebourne?s inaugural productions of Cos? fan Tutte (1935, EMI 63864, 2 CDs) and Don Giovanni (1936, Naxos Historical 8.110135-37, 3 CDs, also remastered by Ward Marston). I am not sure the Cos? fan Tutte has ever been fully surpassed.

-John Higgins

Wagner: The Opera Collection. Tristan und Isolde. Tannh?user. Parsifal. The Flying Dutchman. Lohengrin. Die Meistersinger.
Vienna Philharmonic and Chicago Symphony Orchestras, Sir Georg Solti, conductor. John Culshaw, Ray Minshull, Christopher Raeburn, Michael Woolcock, producers; Gordon Parry, James Brown, James Lock, Colin Moorfoot, Kenneth Wilkinson, John Pellowe, Neil Hutchinson, engineers. Decca 470600 (22 CDs)

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Georg Solti?s recorded legacy centers primarily on his recordings of the Wagner and Richard Strauss operas, plus some large scale orchestral works such as Mahler?s Eighth Symphony. Solti established his reputation as a Wagnerian conductor with his peerless Ring cycle. With the exception of Die Walk?re, those performances have never been surpassed. Das Rheingold was an artistic and sonic milestone, and G?tterdammerung is probably the greatest Wagner recording ever made. John Culshaw and Gordon Parry?s sound set a revolutionary new standard for recorded opera in terms of dynamic impact and realistic balance between singers and orchestra.

The other analog Solti Wagner operas continued that sonic tradition, but the performances are more variable. Tristan und Isolde was greeted with unprecedented anticipation. Birgit Nilsson sings Isolde with her unique blend of power and precision, but Fritz Uhl cannot compete vocally as Tristan. (Neither could the aging Wolfgang Windgassen for Karl B?hm on DG, but his vocal acting and B?hm?s conducting combine to make this the preferable Nilsson Tristan.) Solti, at this point in his career, was temperamentally unsuited to the crucial second act Love Music and the ?Liebestod.???By 1970, Culshaw was gone but Parry was still there to insure that the sound of Tannh?user would be qualitatively similar. Solti?s conducting is white hot without being overdriven, and he doesn?t slight the sensual Venusberg music or the solemn ?Pilgrims Chorus.? This is probably Ren? Kollo?s finest recording, and Christa Ludwig?s seductive Venus trounces the competition. Daniel Barenboim?s recent Teldec version has a competent cast and conducting, but it never really sizzles.? If you want the ultimate in excitement (which Tannh?user needs), Solti?s Paris version, with its electrifying, extended, ?Bacchanale? is the clear choice. If you require the complete Dresden overture with its awkward transition to an earthbound ?Bacchanale,? go with Barenboim.

Given Solti?s erratic Tristan and his hyperdynamic conducting style, one could reasonably expect that his Parsifal would be a disaster. Such is not the case. The cast is loaded with experienced Wagnerians, and Ludwig excels as Kundry. Solti makes Wagner?s lyrical music soar without bogging down, as it does with James Levine. While Herbert von Karajan and Barenboim have their moments, when you consider the sound (engineered by Parry and Kenneth Wilkinson), Solti is second to none.

There are surprisingly no truly great recordings of The Flying Dutchman in modern sound, and this is the weakest of Solti?s Wagner operas. I still prefer Antal Dorati?s undervalued performance with George London?s Dutchman and Leonie Rysanek?s legendary Senta. After an imposing overture, Solti drives the music so relentlessly that he compromises the score?s grand romantic sweep. Here, Norman Bailey and Janis Martin are simply not competitive as the Dutchman and Senta, respectively.

The spectacularly well-casted Rudolf Kempe/Vienna Philharmonic EMI Lohengrin is correctly perceived as the best all-around performance. Erich Leinsdorf?s RCA Boston Symphony Orchestra version is also important because of Sandor Konya?s definitive Lohengrin. Solti?s digital recording sounds similar to Decca?s analog masterpieces. His conducting is remarkably restrained and sensitive to the lyrical flow of the music, and Placido Domingo rivals Konya in tonal beauty, if not style and diction. However, a thundering Jessye Norman is miscast as Elsa; she overpowers Eva Randova?s lightweight Ortrud.

Solti?s second Die Meistersinger was greeted with surprising critical apathy for such an important release. This is odd because, taken as a whole, it is on the same general level as Kempe, Karajan, and Wolfgang Sawallisch. A mature Solti applies a transparent, almost chamber-like touch aided by excellent digital sound, and the final scene has never been more festive. The set?s principal weakness is Jos? van Dam?s monochromatic Hans Sachs. On the other hand, I am not overwhelmed with the vocalism of any other commercially recorded Sachs, and Ben Heppner and Karita Mattila are above reproach.

The producers and engineers of this collection comprise a who?s who of Decca?s finest over the past half-century. Previous CD reincarnations contained a hard and hot treble that was not present on the LPs. These 24/96 remasterings fail to eliminate this, but do marginally improve spatial information and fine inner detail. It would be fascinating to hear whether SACD could attenuate the digital high end and fully restore the glories of the analog originals. But even as rendered here, they sound better than virtually any other opera recordings. These performances feature the best Wagnerian singers of their time, and no orchestra can play Wagner like the Vienna Philharmonic? but the single unifying factor is Solti. Some variability to his conducting is inevitable, given the massive scope of the music. In the aggregate, though, the Solti Wagner Collection and the Ring rank with the greatest achievements in recording history.??

-Arthur B. Lintgen

The No?l Coward Songbook.
Ian Bostridge, tenor; Sophie Daneman, soprano; Jeffrey Tate, piano. John Fraser and Mark Brown, producers; Arne Akselberg, balance engineer. EMI 5 57374

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After seeing MGM?s 1941 film of his 1929 operetta Bittersweet, No?l Coward called it ?a nauseating hotchpotch of vulgarity, false values, seedy dialogue, stale sentiment, vile performances, and abominable direction.? Given such scathing critical precedent, donning kid gloves to review Ian Bostridge?s ill-conceived survey of some of the Master?s greatest songs would be a horrendous disservice. Bostridge is one of our finest classical lyric tenors. But his attempt to honor Great Britain?s preeminent 20th Century composer for the popular stage yields performances so precious and ludicrously overstated as to make auditioning the entire disc in one sitting an act of unjustifiable masochism.

Among Bostridge?s 19 selections are three from the operetta Bittersweet. Coward?s own 1931 recording of ?If You Could Only Come with Me? (remastered on Naxos) is brisk and charming. Martin Smith, in TER?s complete recording of the work, succeeds by imitating Coward?s understated manner and patter. Bostridge, by contrast, pours it on thick; the extra vibrato he adds to come in the phrase ?If you could only come with me? is insufferable. In one of the disc?s five duets, ?I?ll See You Again,? Bostridge?s unctuous treatment of lines such as ?Happiness that may die/Melodies that must fly? contrasts markedly with soprano Sophie Daneman?s far more natural phrasing. The same goes for ?Zigeuner.? While the light-spirited Coward romps through the piece in a manner that leaves us smiling, Bostridge seems devoid of the Viennese lilt and lyrical, nostalgic charm that gives this music life.

Dismissing this outing as camp would understate just how far Bostridge misses the mark. He simply does not convey Coward?s wit, sentimentality, and tongue-in-cheek naughtiness. The only thing natural about this disc, besides the ease of the tenor?s collaborators, is the clear, near perfect acoustic.??

-Jason Serinus

Baltic Voices 1
Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, Paul Hillier, conductor. Robina G. Young and Brad Michel, producers; Michel, engineer. Harmonia Mundi USA 907311

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Credit Robina Young, Harmonia Mundi USA?s ever-adventurous head of A&R, with not resting on her impressive laurels when it comes to expanding the recorded repertoire. When she signed the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, there must have been every pressure, what with dwindling sales of serious music, to go with the obvious?say, Bach cantatas or something by Vivaldi. Instead, she encouraged a program of six Twentieth Century composers from countries surrounding the Baltic Sea. The best known are Arvo P?rt and Einojuhani Rautavaara; the remaining four are new to me.

The project?s roots date from the mid-Eighties when Paul Hillier produced the choir?s first recording (for ECM) and made his initial acquaintance with the rich choral tradition of Estonia. Recently, he became the group?s artistic director/principal conductor. Baltic Voices is the first of a three-album series exploring choral music from this part of the world. The present disc contains three world-premiere recordings: Veljo Tormis?s colorful, evocative folk-based Latvian Bourdon Songs; Peteris Vasks?s powerful, dirgelike Dona nobis pacem in its version with string accompaniment (here provided by the Tallinn Chamber Orchestra); and P?rt?s? . . . which was the son of . . ., an amazing setting (in spots more contrapuntal than the tintinnabuli aesthetics of his recent norm) of the passage from St. Luke that traces the ancestry of Jesus back 75 generations to God. Cyrillus Kreek is represented by his four lovely, melodious Psalms of David; Sven David Sandstr?m by two brooding settings after Purcell and Buxtehude; and Rautavaara by the four eerie, haunting miniatures that constitute his Lorca Suite (?The Scream? vividly evoking the far more famous work by the painter Munch).

Consisting of 32 evidently youthful voices of exceptional articulation, blend, and intonation, the choir sings with great purity of tone, essentially without vibrato, as called for by the style of the music. The clean sound strikes the typical Robina Young compromise between closeness and atmosphere?though perhaps a tad edgy in this new venue, a church in Estonia. Three of the Tormis pieces employ discrete effects of distance or movement, done with the approval of the composer, present at the sessions. Although much of the music here is religious, meditative, and lyrical, its expression can rise to considerable intensity, and the recording has the dynamic range to accommodate it. In sum, music at once unusual and unusually beautiful.

-Paul Seydor