Synthesising Bach with Peter Gregson

A few weeks ago someone gave what seemed a very silly answer on University Challenge. For what keyboard instrument, asked Jeremy Paxman, did J S Bach originally compose his Goldberg Variations? The first wrong guess, albeit not absurd, was the organ. After all, Bach wrote a lot of music for the organ. My Hurford box set weighs in at 17 discs. After a few moments and a come on, someone from the other team buzzed in and guessed: synthesiser. Paxman gave the withering response he reserves for when students get an arts question a few hundred years out; I, and, I imagine, many other classical music fans, shouted at the screen loudly enough that my brother came into the room to ask what the matter was. But after I was done railing against the ignorance on display, I started to wonder if it was really such a stupid answer. After all, along with just about everything short of the kitchen sink, Uri Caine’s take on the Goldberg Variations probably does feature a synthesiser or two somewhere. (I can’t find a definitive list online and my CD copy is currently in storage).

Perhaps the student in question was, like me, a fan of Peter Gregson who has recently been mixing Bach with synthesisers. I’ve been enjoying his work from his impressive debut album Terminal, to his more recent strings and synths mashup Quartets Two.

Where's Runnicles' favourite recordings issued in 2012

2012 has been a good year for recordings, of which more in a moment. However before I get onto that, I find I must rectify two omissions from last year's list. The first is Mark Elder and the Hallé's majestic account of Vaughan Williams' London Symphony. I'm not sure how this escaped my notice on release since I'm a fan of the Hallé's label. The disc is for me the more impressive as I'm not the world's greatest Vaughan Williams fan, yet my first impulse on listening to it was to put it on again immediately.

The second omission is this BIS disc of Anders Hilborg works. This is actually a fortuitous omission since it ties in nicely to one of the themes of my music buying this year, which has shifted heavily towards digital downloads, which the independent labels do far better. I came across this via the eClassical store (which I've written about extensively here), and after staring at the intriguing cover image for a while, decided to give it a go. The four works on the disc are all performed by the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic, but with different conductors (Esa Pekka Salonen, Alan Gilbert and Sakari Oramo). King Tide, for which Oramo is on duty, is probably my favourite, fascinating because it feels both organic in the way the climaxes grow but also industrial at the same time. Hillborg creates generally energetic and intriguing sound worlds. He writes well for all sections of the orchestra and often yields a sound somewhat akin to a synthesiser, perhaps unsurprising given the liner notes mention a background in electronic music. (I mean that as a compliment, incidentally.) At times frantic, tranquil or muscular, and moving effortlessly between, it is an impressive disc and Hillborg is definitely a composer to watch.

Where's Runnicles' favourite recordings issued in 2011

Last year, when I rounded up my favourite discs, I felt pretty spoilt for choice. I don't feel quite the same this year, yet there are still a good few things worth highlighting. As with last year, I accompany this post with a Spotify playlist (on which all but one of the discs are available). For multidisc sets, I have only included a few highlights. We'll begin with the disc I hoped for at the end of last year's post.

Charles Mackerras may have died in 2010, but there continues to be a steady stream of recordings, mostly live concert tapings, bearing his name. The finest of these is, for me, his recording of Tchaikovsky's 6th symphony with the Philharmonia. I've written about this already and have little to add. The performance made for a memorable concert and the CD is equally fine, whether it be the energy the eighty-three year old brings to the third movement, or the emotional weight they find in the finale.

The Where's Runnicles Album of the Week - Thomas Dolby's A Map of the Floating City

"There is nothing new under the sun"

So, at least, Thomas Dolby claims at the outset of his first new studio album in two decades (it should be noted at the outset that Dolby is our uncle, earning this post a Shameless Plugs tag). Slightly tongue in cheek, no doubt, yet as he repeatedly shows in a little under an hour, he has plenty more to say.

The album is divided into three sections and much of the content will be familiar, if, that is, you're a hardcore fan. Over the past fifteen months Dolby has released two of the three as EPs, and while Urbanoia is genuinely new I heard at least one of the songs at a gig a couple of years ago.

Sergiu Celibidache's extraordinary Bruckner

I've long been curious about Sergiu Celibidache's Bruckner. I've seen plenty of rave reviews, but these same reviews also point to extreme tempi and suggest this is Bruckner that won't be to all tastes. Yet he certainly seems to have his fans, as evidenced by the fact that the now deleted survey is selling for £270 on Amazon! If you haven't spat out absolutely all of whatever it is you were drinking, you might like to know that some of them are available individually: the 6th and 9th can be had for £60 and £50 respectively. While I was certainly curious to hear what the fuss was about, I wasn't that curious. Yes, there is a more readily available set on DG that dates from an earlier period but it is, by all accounts, less extreme and doesn't attract quite such intriguing praise. Thankfully, Spotify rides to the rescue and some time ago I found the set there, saved it to a playlist for later listening, and promptly forgot about it.

Then, a few weeks ago, I found myself sorting the myriad of such playlists into some kind of order with the idea of actually starting to work through them. For whatever reason, it was Celibidache's Bruckner which jumped out at me; now I find myself wondering why on earth I waited so long. These recordings are quite remarkable.

Giulini's Berlin Schubert

I'm a big fan of both Carlo Maria Giulini and Schubert's great C major symphony, thus when I stumbled across this new Testament release of a live performance with the Berlin Philharmonic (coupled with the unfinished), picking it up was a no brainer. It was also, unfortunately, a mistake.

The problem with the performances of both works is simple: they are dull; very, very dull. So much so that at times it was genuinely a struggle to listen through to the end. I can think of few CD releases, and certainly no others involving Giulini, of which I would say the same. Had you given me the disc to listen to blind and then told me the identity of the conductor, I would not have believed you.

The Where's Runnicles Album of the Week - Tchaikovsky's Pathetique from Charles Mackerras and the Philharmonia

It is about a year since the great Charles Mackerras died (read my tribute here). And, while concert halls and opera pits have certainly been quieter without him, it is difficult to say the same of the CD players and hi-fis, such has been the steady stream of new releases.

One, more than any other, was keenly awaited by me, his live recording of Tchaikovsky's 6th symphony, The Pathetique, with the Philharmonia. The reason is simple: I was at the concert in question and it was quite something.

The Where's Runnicles Album of the Week: Electric Bath by The Don Ellis Orchestra

I've been thinking a lot this week about new music, about hearing things for the first time and about seeking out new things. It therefore seemed appropriate to do my first Album of the Week in a while and, more specifically, to pick out a disc first released over forty years ago and whose praises I've been meaning to sing for quite some while now.

At first glance, if you're not familiar with Electric Bath this may seem a little odd, but actually it makes perfect sense. I first heard the album a decade or so again when my brother, having heard a song on the radio, gave it to me for my birthday. I had never heard anything quite like it. Today, four decades after it was made, it still sounds fresh and new, its five tracks still seem to overflow with invention. It is also toe-tappingly good.

The Where's Runnicles Album of the Week - Thomas Dolby's Oceanea

This week's Album of the Week is even more of a misnomer than usual. In the first place, it's been far more than a week since I last did one (that much is normal), and in the second this isn't an album, but rather a three track EP; still, it's sufficiently great that it deserves inclusion all the same. It's also the work of Thomas Dolby, who happens to be my uncle, which earns this post a Shameless Plugs tag.

Dolby's last studio album, Astronauts and Heretics, was released nearly two decades ago, back in 1992, after which he spent his time working in technology in Silicon Valley, which meant a drought for those who love his music. A few years ago he moved back to the UK, more specifically to the stunningly bleak and beautiful Suffolk coast, and once again began working on music in an old lifeboat that sits in his back garden and which has been converted to a high tech, wind powered digital studio. (Which, at the very least, meant he no longer had to put up with me asking him when he might record something new whenever we met up at family gatherings.)

BBC Legends come to Spotify

In general, given the choice, I will almost always take a live recording over a studio one. Yes, it may not have quite the same immaculate sound (though there are plenty of studio recordings that disappoint in this regard), it may have mistakes, it may have coughing, clapping and other audience noise, but what it may also often have is a drama and a sense of occasion that you almost never get in the studio. Of course, I'm talking about real live recordings, the kind that preserve exactly a concert, not the "live" recordings of today that are in fact cobbled together from a string of concerts (take the Concertegbouw's live Sibelius 1st symphony - four concerts over four months), perhaps patched after or with rehearsal takes; these are a halfway house sometimes delivering the worst of both worlds (although there are many excellent examples too). Still, I wish more of the orchestra labels would be a little braver and release real live events. Given the enduring success of many older, real live recordings, it is puzzling.

For this reason, I'm a fan of the BBC Legends series, which mines the BBC's rich archive to serve up genuine live performances although (a little unfortunately in my view) generally not preserving complete concerts. Following on from my post about great orchestras earlier this week, my iPod listening at work has been drawn one piece at a time from a selection of British orchestras. Today I came to the Hallé and instead of Elder, whom I've been listening to a lot lately, I turned to their extraordinary partnership with glorious John Barbirolli. Scrolling through the many choices available, one jumped out at me: a BBC Legends disc of Bruckner's 9th symphony.

Alfred Brendel at 80

January 5th 2011 was the 80th birthday of one of the greatest, if now retired, living pianists. Decca, which has now completely absorbed the Philips label that Alfred Brendel has been with since the 1970s, have dipped into the archives and released this set to cash in on, I mean commemorate, the occasion. Spotify users can hear the set here.

Unlike his Artists Choice series, which contains some fabulous releases which are frequently superior to their studio counterparts, it is not clear if Brendel has actually picked these himself - certainly it is not explicitly stated on Decca's website or on the CD case. In addition, Brendel's own words do not generally mark them as favourites in the same way. Sadly, for the most part the set is something of a damp squib and hard to recommend.

Where's Runnicles' favourite recordings issued in 2010

Last year I listened to Radio 3's annual Critics' Choice roundup edition of CD Review and thought two things - firstly that there was very little, with the exception of a superb double disc of Schubert from the Belceas, that really grabbed me, and secondly that I couldn't think of very much that I would have put into my own such roundup.  2009 was not, to these ears, a vintage year for CDs (actually, thinking about it, there was Audite's superb box of Furtwangler's RIAS recordings and the Beatles remasters too, but still).

How much difference a year makes - in 2010 there was a flood of superb recordings in the first few months alone and things didn't let up much thereafter.  And yet, listening to CD Review again this morning, I find that none of my favourite discs have made the cut.  This, then, provides the perfect excuse for a selection of Where's Runnicles' favourite discs of the year.  Where possible, I've put them on this Spotify playlist so you can try before you buy (though not in the same order).

The Spaghetti Western Orchestra, or, excuse me while I massacre this innocent cabbage

I think I better begin this review with a confession.  Despite the fact that I spend my life teaching and researching the United States of America, I don't think I have ever actually watched one of Sergio Leone's spaghetti westerns.  Other westerns yes (Rio Bravo being one of my favourites) but not one of his.  I mention this because I suspect this show has an awful lot of in jokes in it that I wasn't completely getting (judging by the hysterics of the gentleman on my right).

The Spaghetti Western Orchestra show is frankly pretty nearly indescribable.  Nevertheless, in the interests of you, our loyal readers, I shall attempt it.  If you think of something which is a cross between an episode of The Goon Show, the Frasier episode where he recreates an old-style radio drama and the Edinburgh Fringe show where the Australian band Blue Grassy Knoll played live accompaniments for Buster Keaton movies, you may approach somewhere close to this madness.

Orchestra in this case denotes five multi-tasking performers on, according to the publicity (and I think it is pretty fair), about 100 instruments ranging from the obvious (for a western) trumpet and drums, to the slightly more unusual bassoon (a lovely reminder of what a gorgeous instrument it is), to the frankly downright bizarre (sound of walking manufactured by a boot and a packet of corn flakes).  This is as much a visual as an aural spectacle.

Peter Gregson's Terminal

At the end of last year I started one of those many blog posts that somehow never get finished.  The subject was the best discs of 2009, and while there were some very good ones (the Belcea Quartet's Schubert, for example), part of the reason it never got finished was that there just weren't all that many new discs last year which got me really excited.  How different 2010 has been.  We've been flooded with great releases: there have been three outstanding ones from Charles Mackerras alone, not to mention the LSO's new recording of Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet and we're only half way through the year (so I won't yet count Paul Lewis's superb Beethoven concerti recordings since we have to wait until July for them).

As a result, when I say Peter Gregson's Terminal is one of the finest discs I've heard this year, it may not put it in quite the most exclusive group imaginable, but it's a testament to its outstanding quality.

Some years ago I read a not very good book by Colin Forbes which was also called Terminal.  The two don't have much in common other than the fact that that opened with multiple definitions of the word and Gregson seems to have had multiple definitions in mind when picking his title.  As he writes, much of the music was conceived during long hours spent in airport terminals; at the same time, the first and last tracks are titled - and +, like the terminals on a battery.  Electricity is an apt theme, since this disc mixes cello with electric cello, both played one on top of the other and often subjected to delays or other electronic manipulation.  Gregson is keen to point out that this was done in complete takes, rather than adding a little bits here and there.  This has been a wise decision, as it ensures a more musical result.

The Classical Shop - Chandos revamp their download store

[Update - 2012-03-26: Please note that the landscape has significantly changed since I wrote this piece and it is now outdated. My survey of classical download stores, written in March 2012, can be found here.]


Last June I had a bit of a rant at the expense of online download stores. None of which, if you want lossless classical music and use iTunes/iPod on a Mac, delivered as good a user experience as I felt should be the case.

Fortunately, Chandos have now updated The Classical Shop (which features not only their own label, but many others besides). Dowloads are DRM free and they offer a variety of lossless CD quality formats, not to mention some discs in studio quality (24 bit, 96 kHz). This is as before, though the high resolution downloads look new. The problem was never formats, but usability. If you were a windows user, or only wanted lossy MP3s, it was fine, you could in a few clicks download a single zip file containing all the tracks on the CD. The problem is that getting a WMA file to play on a mac is tricky, and requires a level of technical jiggery-pokery beyond the ken of the average user. While Chandos did offer FLAC (which is problematic for iPod users as for reasons passing understanding Apple don't support it, and even getting them to play in iTunes is tricky), WAV and, best of all, Apple friendly AIFF, this one click (ish) option wasn't available for these formats.

That, has now all changed. So, I headed over to the site and picked out a disc I've had my eye on: Gerald Finley's collection of Opera in English arias with Gardner and the LPO. Then it's a simple matter of selecting between MP3 and lossless (studio quality isn't available on this one), at the top of the screen, selecting the desired tracks (or all, via the add all button), clicking to buy and following through a fairly standard process. The price is a pound less than the physical CD on Amazon, or £4 less if you choose MP3.

When you get to the download screen you can select your chosen lossless format. One minor criticism is that the recommendations for what works with a mac/ipod could be clearer - otherwise some unsuspecting person might download FLAC and have problems. You then click the icon for that format below, click the zip box next to it, and then the zip box at the bottom of the screen and Robert is your mother's brother.

It isn't quite that simple as apparently they don't routinely store everything as AIFF, so the files have to be generated and then zipped up, however you can go away and leave the computer to do that. Once it's done, you click to download the zip file. Another minor grip here is that Chandos's servers are rather slow - I only got a download rate of 200KB while my connection can handle 1.7MB, as a result if you download anything in studio quality you'll be waiting a very long time.

That said, the big gripe before was that you had to click to download each track individually. As such, buying a full CD of AIFFs was a cumbersome operation that took several hours. Now, while it still takes a little longer than it ideally would, it only requires a few minutes of attention, after which the computer can be left to get on with it.

Once downloaded, there are another couple of minor gripes. I had to redo all the tags on the tracks once I got them imported into iTunes: apostrophes were missing from all titles that had them and each started 'CD01 TK01' (and so on - I can't think why anyone would want that), which had to be removed. Also, composer's first and surnames needed to be reversed so they'd index properly on the ipod. However, given that one has to rewrite the tags somewhat for just about any CD listing one gets out of the Gracenote database and anything one downloads, this isn't the end of the world. It isn't helped that there isn't a good standard way of tagging and I, like many others, have evolved my own that works for me. On the plus side, it should be noted that decent resolution artwork as well as a PDF of the booklet are also provided (and anyone, e.g. someone who owns the physical CD, can download these without purchase).

In summary, I can now recommend Chandos as the first port of call for classical downloading where I couldn't before. I think it very likely I'll be using their services again. This is a great upgrade that could prove expensive. Well done them for listening to feedback and correcting flaws in their service. If Passionato would offer AIFFs too, they'd get a similar recommendation.

What about the Finley disc? It's great and a review may follow when I get the time.


One big bugbear in all this is Apple's lack of native FLAC support in iTunes/iPod - if you feel the same way, why not pop over to their site and send them a feature request (for all the good it's likely to do).

Tippett, Shostakovich and Schumann from Lill, Davis and the RSNO

Friday night's Royal Scottish National Orchestra programme is in some ways a tough one to review because I don't really know two of the three works. But I'm not about to let that stop me.

My last significant encounter with Andrew Davis was a set of Dvorak symphonies on RCA with the Philharmonia which I found dull beyond measure and where it felt like the orchestra were asleep, if occasionally waking up in the finales. Fortunately no Dvorak was on the programme and everyone seemed wide awake.

I'm not a hundred percent certain, but it's possible I haven't heard any Tippett in the concert hall since I first encountered the peerless concerto for double string orchestra about five years ago. That made the appearance of the Ritual Dances from The Midsummer Marriage all the sweeter. It often seemed to call to mind features I love in the double concerto and the RSNO seemed on fine form for Davis. Hopefully it won't be so long until I next encounter some Tippett live. Sadly, even this was enough to raise the hackles of a small minority amongst Edinburgh's generally conservative audience for whom even this was too modern and who sat stoically refusing to applaud. Fortunately they were significantly in the minority.

Tippett was followed by Shostakovich's second piano concerto with John Lill. He gave a clear and lucid reading, and, impressively for such a large work, didn't feel the need to resort to thumping the keyboard. He, Lill and the RSNO gave us plenty of fireworks in the outer movements while providing a sublime reading of the adagio. Not, perhaps, Shostakovich's most profound work, but a pleasure to hear. (Note, I don't know the work well enough to comment, but I'm reliably informed that Lill got lost and was improvising for twenty or thirty bars in the finale.)

After the interval we were treated to Schumann's third symphony, the Rhenish. It's a nicely jolly work and they had plenty of fun with it. I always feel Schumann works best when played with plenty of drive and romanticism and my favourite recordings are those in the Bernstein mould, not least the man himself. Davis didn't go down that route, and yet for the most part it was success, if the first movement didn't quite have the lit and flow I'd like. True, the second movement really feel nearly a very moderate as marked, but in general it was an enjoyable reading and such minor quibbles didn't really get in the way.

Throughout, Davis seemed to be having a great deal of fun, with a huge grin spread across his face every time he turned to face the audience. It was a perfectly decent evening in the concert hall then, though as quality of this review (not one of my best) indicates, I think part of my mind and heart were still with the previous night's Bruckner which was still ringing in my ears twenty-four hours later.

Schiff, Elder, The Halle, Elgar's cello concerto and the tears in my eyes

If this CD hadn't been released back in 2004 it would unquestionably be one of my discs of 2009. As it is, it is one of the most satisfying purchases I've made in the last twelve months, a revelation of a familiar work and one I cannot recommend highly enough.

Heinrich Schiff digs deep in the opening chords, and yet without the melodrama that can sometimes be present here. More surprising, though, is the softness and delicacy that follows. However, something in its way more remarkable than Schiff's playing is going on, and that is Mark Elder's accompaniment. Beneath the soloist, the Halle, still with their rich, lush sound, are remarkably understated. Elder is putting the soloist absolutely front and centre.

Of course, that's not to say that he's afraid to turn up the volume when called for in the orchestral passages, but when he does this only seems to underscore and accentuate what Schiff is saying. Schiff's reading itself is beautifully judged, often remarkably delicate, and fully bringing out the yearning that pervades the opening movement. This is always an emotive piece, but somehow Schiff manages to tug on the heartstrings that bit harder and more often.

Then there is the edginess to Schiff's playing at the opening of the lento. There is something almost dangerous here. While it never settles down completely, it does have moving moments, especially when the big orchestral accompaniment comes in, providing a warmer contrast.

The beautiful adagio is also marked by Schiff's lightness of touch and Elder's sensitive and subtle accompaniment, but also by the general tenderness of his playing. Time and again one is struck by what a beautiful tone the soloist is capable of producing.

Something similar is going on in the finale, where it is tempting to describe Schiff's playing as nimble. Not swift, per se, but the same lightness that has marked the whole performance mixed with an impressively dextrous agility. At times both jolly and sad, riven with contrasting emotions though never in a way that is over the top. It is an immensely satisfying performance.

Throughout Elder displays superb judgment in support of his soloist. Never do their approaches seem at odds, or to possess different conceptions of the work, as is sometimes the case in concerto performances. Instead we are presented with a singularity of vision. The Halle's playing is never less than superb.

One of the most striking aspects of this recording is just how fresh this team make a very familiar work sound - take, for example, 4:30 on the finale, in comparison to which my other recordings feel almost stodgy. If you feel you know the work backwards, the energy and excitement of the finale may well have you questioning such assumptions.

This is a beautiful, addictive and highly moving reading. The quality of the recording is very good too, as seems standard on Halle issues. If you haven't already heard it, I cannot urge you strongly enough to do so. This may seem sacrilegious, but I think I prefer it to the legendary Du Pre/Barbirolli version on EMI. Du Pre may hold sway in the opening movement, where the sheer weight of emotion wrung from each bar is often devastating. But elsewhere, Schiff seems to have something altogether more interesting to say.

The disc also contains Elgar's Falstaff and an amusing little gem The Smoking Cantata. Both seem well enough played, but I know neither sufficiently to review the recordings. It doesn't matter: the concerto alone justifies the price of admission.

Jansons and the Concertgebouw's disappointing and overpriced Pictures at an Exhibition

It's not often one picks up a brand new CD that weighs in at under forty minutes. True, if you go back enough decades to the LP era it was commonplace, but not now. Some of the best albums ever issued are short: Ben Webster meets Oscar Peterson is a prime example and its genius is such that one doesn't feel in the least short changed. However, on classical CDs it's rarer, not least because when those old albums get a rerelease, it's easy to find something appropriate to fill them out with. For a new classical disc to be this short is pretty well unprecedented, and yet that's exactly what we have with the Concertgebouw's new own label disc:

Now, of course, you could argue that Pictures at an Exhibition is such a glorious work that it requires no companion. Yet a glance through the most recent copy of the Penguin Guide I have indicates that that isn't an argument anyone else has made. If you were going to make it, to then charge full price (the disc goes for £10.99) is bold, not least as this is a pretty competitive bit of the catalogue. Frankly, to justify its price tag, this needs to be just about the most amazing, and amazingly recorded, version of Pictures ever produced. It isn't, not on either count. (Note, this recording is of the Ravel orchestration. Throughout comparison will be to Giulini with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, my favourite recording.)

The first surprise is the dry and closed sound compared to what I've come to expect from this label, as a result the recording is lacking in clarity and detail. It's not bad by any means, but it's also not reference quality. True, sound is a little dry for Giulini too, but I don't get the sense there that I'm losing anything.

The second surprise is that the recording feels somewhat subdued. Even though Jansons is quicker than Giulini on paper, his reading feels sluggish in comparison, particularly in the Promenade and La grande porte de Kiev. Perhaps it's just that Giulini exudes a greater sense of energy.

There is some very fine playing on display from the Concertgebouw: the winds at the start of the Gnomus and Il vecchio castello are especially wonderful, as is the glorious brass playing in Samuel Goldenberg und Schmuyle. However, the Chicago have good playing too, but theirs is coupled with a certain flashiness which seems well suited to this work.

Generally, Jansons is at his finest and most insightful during the quieter and more subdued moments such as during Il vecchio castello. The recording not without its magical moments: there is a gloriously lumbering sense of momentum to Bydlo and in La cabane sur des pattes de poule his interpretation really catches fire in a way that has been lacking.

It is, in other words, a solid if not revelatory reading. If it was paired with another good performance, then it might well be worth acquiring. But it isn't. True, the couplings on DG's current issue of the Giulini recording are, frankly, forgettable; but that disc goes for just £5 and, if you shop around, can be had for less than half that. Giulini's earlier live mono account (with the Philharmonia) manages to squeeze in Tchaikovsky's sixth symphony as a filler!

I love the Concertgebouw, I love Jansons, and I love to support orchestra own labels. Sadly, though, I can't recommend this disc. It is one only for completists or those who want to relive the concert.

Don Carlos in English - Revelatory Conducting from Richard Farnes

I'm huge fan of Don Carlos, for me it ranks among the very greatest operas: there is superb music, a moving plot and some stunning political drama (there can be few finer scenes on stage than the confrontation between the King and the Grand Inquisitor). I love the Opera In English series too, since it means I can enjoy works without having to read along with the libretto. Indeed, often I find it's their translated versions that stick in my head, I'm always a little disappointed when surtitles don't read "That [illegitimate child] Figaro, I'll make him pay". You might think, therefore, that Chandos's latest issue would therefore be an unqualified recommendation. I wish that it was, but sadly it's not quite that simple.

The first problem jumps out and smacks you in the face immediately: they have forgotten to record Act I and we're straight in at Act II. Okay, I realise I'm being rather unfair: they've picked the 1883 version which only has four acts, but the fact of the matter is that however you colour it this is a mistake. Mike Ashman may argue in his liner note that it's "the only version of the work which [Verdi] himself supervised completely in person", but that doesn't mean it stands up dramatically. Act I crucially sets the scene, it is where we see Carlos and Elizabeth meet and fall in love, for goodness sake, not to mention learning what's come between them; losing it cripples the Opera. Now, I can see why you might be tempted to do so in a touring production (and this recording is based on Opera North's recent tour), after all, dropping a scene saves you both sets and doubtless overtime. However, surely the time could have been found to add it back in for the recording. It is, in my personal view, difficult to understate how debilitating a flaw this choice is. It's a tremendous pity since in other respects the set has a lot going for it.

(Note - for this review I'm going to use the Act numbering as per the five Act version, since to me that makes more sense. Just subtract one to get the numbers used in the set.)

The next, much more positive, and also strikingly obvious thing is just how fine the orchestral playing on show here is. Would, frankly, that Opera North made regular trips to Edinburgh if this is their standard. Richard Farnes draws a wonderfully rich sound from the his forces. Pacing is on the slow side but he never loses momentum. Often the set feels close to a real drama, not simply a studio recording, for example in the Auto de Fe scene. But at the same time it isn't quite there: the mob in Act IV doesn't have quite the terrifying power it can (and while John Tomlinson, as the Inquisitor, does have the booming power to quell them, he is not so chilling as, say, Halfvarson). However, moments where the drama feels lacking, such as the Act III confrontation between Carlos, Eboli and Rodrigo, are few and far between.

The singing, though pretty good, is not quite in the same league as the playing. Of course, as someone once said to me, Don Carlos is easy so long as you have the six best singers in the world. There is some truth this, and to some extent my criticisms fall into hair-splitting territory; I am holding the cast up against some of the greatest singers and performers in the world who have delivered revelatory readings, and that's a very hard yardstick. Certainly there are no glaring weak links or painful moments (more than can be said of Abbado's French set where nobody seemed to have bothered with a language coach).

Julian Gavin, in the title role, has a nice and sweet voice, but diction could do to be sharper. Alastair Miles gives an underpowered performance as his father (Philip II); indeed, in some respects I'd rather have had John Tomlinson here than as the Inquisitor. In Act III, for example, Miles doesn't seem sufficiently shocked or injured by Carlos's treason and his rewarding of Rodrigo for saving him seems almost matter of fact. Similarly, in Act IV I want more age, gravitas and despair as he sleeps alone in the Escurial. As I felt when he sang the role at Covent Garden, Tomlinson is too boomy for my taste - there can be something altogether subtler and more sinister to the character's power. There's never really any doubt where the power lies when the two clash, and at times it sounds like they might as well be in a pub debating the finer points of philosophy. It is only in the second part of the scene when the Inquisitor turns against Rodrigo that Tomlinson is truly menacing and only here does Miles find a nice desperation in his pleading. The pace is possibly on the fast side, a rare instance of Farnes not maximising the drama, and again Tomlinson's boom saps his departing "Maybe" of some of its potential power.

Rodrigo (William Dazeley) may not challenge Simon Keenlyside in the acting stakes, but he turns in a solid and cleanly voiced performance and finds a glorious weight in the climax of the blood brotherhood duet (which is wonderfully offset by the superb choral singing of the monks, or rather the Opera North chorus) as well as giving a powerfully emotional reading of the death scene. However, elsewhere in the work he doesn't always have quite the nobility and gravity, this is especially true when he disarms Carlos in Act III (though one does keenly feel Carlos's pain at the betrayal).

Janice Watson is nice enough as Elisabeth, though she too feels a little light. However, at her best she is utterly captivating and her moving performance in Act V is one of the highlights of the set, underscored by Farnes' sensitive accompaniment. At other times this electricity is missing: when she cries for justice in Act IV it's a rather tame affair - there should be furious and righteous indignation.

Eboli is, in my view, one of the trickiest parts to cast in opera: you ideally want a very light and agile voice during the veil song (e.g. Fedora Barbieri on Giulini's live account, who is breathtakingly so), but then, on the other hand, you want a real emotional weight to O don fatale. Jane Dutton acquits herself pretty well. True, she doesn't match Barbieri in Act II, but neither does she feel hopelessly miscast here, as too often happens. She is good in Act IV, though O don fatale doesn't have the weight I would like - I want to be trembling and I'm not.

Rounding off the main cast, Clive Bayley as the monk (or voice of Carlos V) isn't quite booming or haunting enough in Act II, though this may be down to balance or an artistic decision since he is absolutely stunning Act V, adding to the searing drama of Farnes' reading in the final moments.

The voices are not helped by the balance, where they could have done to be a little more prominent; as it is, it's hard to find a volume where they are clear but which doesn't have the neighbours applying for an ASBO during the heavier orchestral climaxes. There are also one or two slightly odd moments where there are some very extremely balanced sounds - this can be especially disconcerting on headphones and is probably not the best way to get off-stage or etherial effects on a recording (the off-stage brass in the Auto de Fe scene is a striking example).

Throughout, the chorus under Timothy Burke are excellent. I particularly appreciate having their words in English during the veil song.

And what of the English translation? Italian opera in English can sometimes come off a little like Gilbert and Sullivan, and not in a good way. For the most part, this is avoided, save where the queen demands justice in Act IV. As always, I feel the pros of hearing it in my native tongue outweigh the cons.

Again and again, especially in the larger climaxes, a fabulous orchestral sound does much to erase any doubts - I hadn't realised how fine a band Opera North have. There is the wonderful menace to the music that introduces the Grand Inquisitor and then that gloriously moving string sound, almost shimmering, at the start of the prison scene. It makes me wish Farnes had been in the pit for Royal Opera's recent revival, certainly he's now high on my list of conductors to hear doing Verdi live (or anything else, for that matter).

If you don't own a recording of Don Carlos and are looking for one, I can't really recommend this as the best starting point. Instead I would point you towards Giulini (either live, though the mono sound is not ideal, there are some unfortunate, though less severe, cuts and the Covent Garden audience is quite noisy, or in the studio) or Pappano in French (especially worth having for Halfvarson's Inquisitor), both have good playing, are complete enough and have strong conductors. If you want really completely you need Matheson on Opera Rara, but that set has other flaws and is probably for completists only. Sad to say, the perfect Don Carlos has not yet been recorded. However, if like me you have several Don Carloses and are always happy to pick up another, then this is worth having. It's nice to have it in English, and you owe it to yourself to hear Farnes' reading of the score. It's also very reasonably priced. Cuts and hair-splitting aside, it is a satisfying listen and I defy you to find a conductor who injects more passion into the final minutes. In the field of Don Carlos recordings you can do very much worse. I won't be digging it out every week, but it and my CD player certainly won't be strangers either.

The Golden Age of Remastering (Thomas Dolby's first two albums reissued)

The Golden Age of Wireless and The Flat Earth are iconic albums in 1980s electronic music and well loved by their fans. Indeed, director of Star Trek and creator of Alias JJ Abrams recently picked the former as one of his favourites. As such, they're a little overdue for some remastering. We've already had a taster of this in the form of The Singular Thomas Dolby; however, being a compilation, it wasn't the real gold. I believe in the album as an artistic unit: the best albums (and both of these fall into that category) feel like a set of songs that belong together, in that order, and have a flow between them. Fortunately the gold has now come in two releases, originally slated for a couple of months back. They are well worth the wait. (Before going any further, I must note this review has a shameless plugs tag, meaning there is a conflict of interest, owing to the fact that Mr Dolby is my uncle. Actually, I should probably add one more disclaimer: this review is rather long, and somewhat nerdy in its detail; for those new to Dolby, the abridged version is that these are two classics and if you haven't heard them you should. Thanks to Spotify you can sample both before you buy.)



It's impressive when a remaster can give that buzz of almost hearing something again for the first time. The Golden Age of Wireless does. That moment came for me with the introduction of track six which had me wondering what on earth the song was, I didn't recognise it at all. And then I remembered, this was The Wreck of The Fairchild; I haven't listened to it in years because I only have it on vinyl and I don't have a record player in my hi-fi at the moment. Not only finally restored to the album (it has been notable in its absence from previous CD issues) but in its correct order. This was something I moaned about to Dolby a good couple of years ago. That's right, not only did the previous CD contain two tracks that weren't on the vinyl (She Blinded me with Science and One of Our Submarines) but this was compounded by the tracks being in the wrong order. The old issue ran as follows:

1. She Blinded me with Science


2. Radio Silence


3. Airwaves


4. Flying North


5. Weightless


6. Europa and the Pirate Twins


7. Windpower


8. Commercial Breakup


9. One of Our Submarines


10. Cloudburst at Shingle Street

The new issue (or, rather, the original album) runs:

1. Flying North


2. Commercial Breakup


3. Weightless


4. Europa and the Pirate Twins


5. Windpower


6. The Wreck of the Fairchild


7. Airwaves


8. Radio Silence


9. Cloudburst at Shingle Street

Now, this may sound silly, but Wireless is probably the least frequently played of the Dolby albums in my flat, and I have them all. Listening to the remaster I am baffled as to why. It's true the sound is better, but it feels like an album now in a way that it didn't before. I now better understand why it is so loved. In case anyone is feeling short changed, though, there is no need to worry: the album is loaded with a further ten tracks, but they're where they should be (at the end) and we'll come to them later.

Otherwise, it's the same songs fans will know and love - from the propulsive Flying North (a reference to the fact planes head north initially after takeoff), through Europa and the Pirate Twins (a love song like no other I know), to the astonishing vividness of Cloudburst at Shingle Street (which captures the bleak Suffolk coast so magically). But even tracks I love less, such as Commercial Breakup or Airwaves, just sound better when they're in the right place.

As with The Singular Thomas Dolby, the sound is significantly better (it is not clear if these are the same masters - the track lengths are quite different in some cases, Airwaves running nearly two minutes longer this time round). I can't really improve much on my comments last time:

Sound quality is definitely improved and if not quite a night and day difference (the previous versions were, after all, pretty decent to begin with), certainly cleaner, crisper and richer; the sound is much more open and less compressed. They have not been comprehensively remixed in the manner of, say, The Sole Inhabitant tour (where may of the textures are often totally new or changed). For those of a hi-fi persuasion this will make it worth acquiring. If you're not bothered by such things, you may not notice.

Occasionally I would notice details that haven't really jumped out at me before. However, it is the cleanness and openness of the sound that stands out. We have got much better at making CDs sound good over the last decade or so. Credit then to Peter Mew for his very fine work on these (supervised by Dolby himself). Remastering isn't simply pushing a button, it's an art and it can be done very badly and very well, fortunately this is a example of the latter.

So, what of the extras? Well, some are superb, requiring little by way of elaboration (the two 'extra' songs from the previous issue, She Blinded me with Science and One of our Submarines, are both there, and complimented by Leipzig and Urges). Others fall much more firmly into the curiosities category and are probably of interest mainly to hardcore fans - the rather different sounding Radio Silence (Guitar Version) and Airwaves (demo) are prime examples. To be honest, a little like the alternate takes that jazz albums overflow with these days, one does slightly wonder what the point was (there's usually a pretty good reason the released version was the released version; Airwaves, I'm looking at you).

The remaining four are much more interesting. They're early demo songs which have rarely before seen the light of day, and never on CD. Of course, as before, there is often some reason for this. Urban Trial is perhaps the finest. It has its origins in some studio time which yielded Magic's Wand (part of Dolby's early career in keep fit videos I was hitherto not aware of). The song was, however, written with the intent of being rejected so he got to keep the master. Certainly, it has an emotive pull to it and the strongest lyrics of any of these 'new' songs (listen out for Dolby's eldest daughter Harper providing a vocal harmony in the second verse, an addition for the release). Therapy/Growth (demo) is another briskly written and recorded effort for a studio demo. It is dreamy, but I don't think the orientally styled melody quite works. Perhaps the most interesting is Sale of the Century (demo). If its tune is familiar, this is because it would eventually become The Wreck of the Fairchild. As Dolby himself says in the sleeve notes, he wasn't happy with the lyrics, and ditching them was certainly a good call (though they are oddly topical a few decades later in light of the financial crisis). It should also be noted that the sound quality of this one is pretty poor, especially in comparison to the rest (a very compressed sound). Lastly, there's the brief Pedestrian Walkway (demo). Originally written for Trevor Herion (whose name is new to me) of The Fallout Club, in a single verse it has a few people walking along the pavement. I'm afraid it's a little lost on me. It's rather too off the wall and I think I'll refrain from speculating on what might have been consumed prior to its composition. Not essential for everyone then; still, for a completist like me, they're gold.

The booklet doesn't recreate the LP entirely, mostly in its removal of the lyrics. However, these can be found on Dolby's website. The website also provides a further four audio tracks that wouldn't fit onto the CD (you have to register for the forum, but that's fairly painless and doesn't result in you getting peppered with spam or anything). Live versions of Commercial Breakup and Urges (the latter being a little raunchier than we're used to) are good to have, though the sound is a little poor. Then there's a demo of Flying North, which is actually the most interesting of the demos as it provides an excellent illustration of just what a difference getting the right sounds makes and how key those textures are to the genius of Dolby's music. Lastly, we get The Fallout Club's version of Pedestrian Walkway, which is much longer and works better, though the song still doesn't entirely grab me. The MP3s are at a fairly low bit rate (just 192 kbps), but given the quality of the source material, this probably doesn't matter too much.

But wait, there's more, yes, even more. In fact, a whole disc more. Indeed, a whole DVD more, which contains Live Wireless. This video was made in 1983 and was filmed before a live audience (though it probably counts as live-ish rather than being a properly live gig), the songs being linked together by another, rather apathetic, Dolby in the projection room. In addition to many of the songs from the studio album, we also get a number other songs, including Urban Tribal, mentioned above. We also get New Toy, written for Lene Lovich (who appears for it, and with whom he also performed it on tour a couple of years back). Perhaps the most interesting of these curiosities is Jungle Line, a cover of a Joni Mitchell song, and complete with throbbing tribal drums (Dolby would later co-produce her album Dog Eat Dog). I have a horrible feeling that Puppet Theatre may be the kind of song, especially thanks to it's repeated refrain of "one more night in the puppet theatre", likely to get stuck in my head. Lastly there's a quite good duet with Kevin Armstrong in Samson and Delilah. All in all, it's a most enjoyable hour (and the only available recording of Dolby doing some of these songs). To be honest, they could have got away with selling this on its own, so to bundle it in with the CD at regular price represents fantastic value.

There is one small blemish, some utter fool somewhere at EMI (who should be given a severe talking to by his manager at the earliest convenience), has, as the more eagle-eyed reader will have noticed, blemished the otherwise pristinely restored cover art with a great white square (which appears to be a German notice that this DVD is suitable for all ages). Thanks. Still, based on the paragraphs above (and given this disc will spend most of its time on the shelf, and thus with that part invisible), it could be worse: the music is what matters. The only people stupider than the guy at EMI are the people over at Amazon who are marking the set down to one or two stars based on this alone! Apparently it makes it less of a "collector's edition". (Of course, I dislike phrases like that anyway, which is why I've avoided it. Actually, since they'll likely fix this on future pressings, it probably makes it more collectable.) They're one of the many kinds of people Rob would justifiably sling out of his record store in High Fidelity. Anyway, the cover should have looked like this:



In general, though, it's beautiful. For example, the rear cover of the booklet gives one of my favourite pieces album art (as Dolby noted on twitter, fans who are really upset about the white box can always reverse the booklet):





For me, however, the real treat is The Flat Earth, for years one of my favourite albums. It's never sounded quite so good and, even better, this isn't scarred by age certification logos:



Less needed to be done here, in that the CD has always had the right tracks, in the right order. What makes it so special though? Obviously, in these days of CDs and MP3s, the distinction is slightly meaningless, but for starters it has one of the most fantastic A sides of any album: Dissidents, The Flat Earth and Screen Kiss. These three songs compliment and flow into one and other just perfectly. They all have great tunes, beautiful textures and wonderful lyrics. What's all the more interesting is that Dolby reveals in his liner notes that these were originally planned to be separate singles - it doesn't sound that way. I love "I can't read my writing, my own writing!" in Dissidents, very likely because I often can't. The Flat Earth is beautiful, or at least, so one thinks until Screen Kiss, a heartfelt love song that never fails to grab me.

Then the album flips and the B side contains my only reservation: Hyperactive, which didn't always feel to me quite like it fit on the album. Except that none of the B side tracks quite fit, and yet, by that very quality, they do. There is the frantic White City, followed by Mulu the Rain Forrest, which has possibly benefited most from the facelift (the pipes and other textures just sound incredible). Then there's the quirky I Scare Myself (originally by Dan Hicks and featuring Pete Thoms' trombone - not often you get that on a pop record) before closing with Hyperactive, his biggest UK hit, and originally intended for Michael Jackson.

It's brilliant. If you love this album half as much as I do, you should get this reissue; if you've never heard it before (and I suspect that's unlikely if you've read this far), then what on earth are you waiting for? This probably sounds overly sycophantic, but it's just how I feel at having one of the treasures of my CD collection so loving restored.

Of course, as with Wireless, we get more than the original album. First up is Get Out of My Mix which, as the name implies, is a mix that samples heavily from his work (it's a cut down version of one of the tracks on the 12x12 CD of Dolby remixes). Then there's Puppet Theater, which appeared on the Live Wireless DVD, though sounding better in the studio version. Dissidents (The Search for Truth Part I), to some extent an extended remix, though there's rather more to it than that, especially the lovely moment reminiscent of Gregorian chanting, is a welcome bonus (it too is known from the 12x12 album). We also get Field Work, Dolby's collaboration with Ryuichi Sakamoto, which I was first introduced to via The Singular Thomas Dolby. Like so many of his songs, it has a strong narrative and has grown on me more and more as I've listened. The sonic contrast in those transitions where everything drops out save the drums is superb.

These are followed by a couple of nuggets from his work on film scores. Don't Turn Away hails from Howard the Duck, which I dimly recall watching along with a number of my cousins many years ago. It wasn't a memorable film but the song isn't bad, though it's rather more mainstream than typical for Dolby, and rather too cheesy film score in nature. This is followed by The Devil is an Englishman from the film Gothic (which I don't think I've ever seen). It's a wonderfully quirky song, and one that would have fitted in perfectly on Aliens Ate My Buick. It sounds like this film was a much better fit for Dolby (I may have to see it). Lastly we get live versions of I Scare Myself and Marseille. The latter is another song I've never come across before and it's probably my favourite amongst the 'new' material. Great textures, a catchy tune and decent lyrics.

The sound of all the bonuses is, unlike for Wireless, uniformly excellent. This is probably as a result of having had better source material to work with.

But wait, there's still more. As with Wireless, Dolby's website contains both the lyrics and some bonus tracks for download. We get an alternate version of Puppet Theatre (a little more laid back and with softer textures), followed by live versions of I Scare Myself (apparently a different one to that included on the CD), Dissidents and New Toy (the latter also featuring on Live Wireless). And, to round it all off, is the lecture. A fun track from a live show, essentially White City, preceded by a brief lecture 'explaining' why the world is flat.


In short, this is remastering the way it should be done: these discs have never sounded so good. They have provided a lot of great listening and will now provide many hours more - I don't think I'll be filing them away on my shelves just yet. So good is the technical job done that Peter Mew deserves one of our irregular awards. He is the first recipient, but in giving it I realise that, had we been around then, Mark Wilder would have got one for his work on Sony's Miles Davis reissues. Therefore, both get our first jointly named award: The Peter Mew and Mark Wilder Award for Audio Remastering that Genuinely and Significantly Adds to and Improves upon Previous Releases. Now, perhaps Mr Mew would like to turn his attention to the other two albums.....


Update - 16/7/09

Post from Dolby on his website clarifying the 'white box' issue. Appears it wasn't as simple as an idiot at EMI doing something idiotic, but rather a whole silly system.