CHARLES-VALENTIN ALKAN : Symphonie Op. 39 · Overture · Two Études (Bernard Ringeissen) (1990) FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

The monumental Symphonie, orchestral in conception, yet idiomatically written for the piano, is in four movements. True to the promise of the title of Opus 39, each is in a different key. The massive first movement is in C minor and is followed by an F minor Funeral March, with a gentle lightening of mood in an F major Trio section of particularly unexpected charm, before the slow tread of the march is resumed. The third movement Minuet moves to the darker key of B flat minor and is more of a Scherzo in mood, with touches of Ländler, contrasted with a lyrical central G flat major Trio, to be recalled briefly as the movement comes to an end. The finale, in E flat minor, described by the American pianist Raymond Lewenthal as a ride in Hell, is impelled relentlessly forward, its thematic material providing scope for contrapuntal exploration. This dazzling and demanding movement provides a conclusion of sufficient weight and brilliance to balance what has gone before, in a work of subtle cyclic unity.

The eleventh study, an Ouverture in the key of B minor, opens with a brief prelude, followed by sombre dotted rhythms, a fleeting reminder of the musical language Schumann found fitting for the majestic Cathedral of Cologne, melting into a much gentler mood, a simple theme, simply varied. An Allegro follows, based on three contrasted themes, the last in a darker mood, the material from which what follows is constructed. The Ouverture ends in B major with a final section that opens with a figure associated with the hunt and proceeds to a final affirmative reference to the opening of the Allegro.

Opus 39 opens with an A minor study under the title Comme le vent (Like the Wind), a tour de force for any performer, demanding, as it does, an extreme of speed. Although of relatively short duration, its structure corresponds to traditional sonata form, with a contrasting second melody emerging from the swirl of notes. It is followed by a study En rythme molossique (In Molossian Rhythm), in form a rondo, in the key of D minor, moving to D major, and dominated by the rhythm of the title. There is a return to the minor mode in a brief and hushed postscript. The two studies offer formidable difficulties to a performer, but are truer to the title of Opus 39 than much that follows. naxos
Charles-Valentin Alkan (1813-1888)
1-4. Études From Douze Études Dans Les Tons Mineurs, Op. 39    
        Symphony, Op. 39 Nos. 4 - 7
5. Ouverture, Op. 39, No. 11
6. Comme Le Vent, Op. 39, No. 1
7. En Rhythme Molossique, Op. 39, No. 2
Credits :
Piano – Bernard Ringeissen
Cover: Notre Dame (1850) (Topographikon)

CHARLES-VALENTIN ALKAN : Préludes Op. 31 (Laurent Martin) (1990) FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

The 25 Preludes in all major and minor keys, Opus 31, appeared in 1847, designed for piano or organ, or, no doubt, for the instrument that Alkan particularly favoured, the pédalier or pianoforte with pedal-board, for which Schumann and Gounod, among others, also wrote. The Preludes go through all 24 keys, returning to a final Prayer in the affirmative original key of C major. The first set of nine opens meditatively and proceeds in a sequence of keys that moves alternately up a fourth and down a third, to F minor in the second and to D-flat major in the third, Dans le genre ancien, the old style in question being nothing more ancient than Bach, heard through the ears of Mendelssohn. Jewish tradition is at the root of the Prière du soir (“Evening Prayer”), the rejoicing of Psalm 150 and the Cantor’s chant of the Sixth Prelude. The rhythm of Schubert and harmony of Schumann mark the relatively cheerful Seventh Prelude, contrasted with La chanson de la folle au bord de la mer (“The Song of the Mad Woman on the Shore”), where the deep tones of the sea itself accompany the increasing tension of the song. The group ends with Placiditas, as tranquil in mood as its title.

The second group of Preludes opens with a rapid fugal piece in the key of A minor, leading to a pleasant trifle, Un petit rien. Le temps qui n’est plus (“Time Past”) brings its own B-flat minor melancholy, leading to Busoni’s favourite Prelude, inspired by a verse from the Song of Songs, "I slept, but my heart watched". A rapid B minor Prelude, moving to B major, is succeeded by Dans le genre gothique (“In the Gothic Style”), a Prelude of beguilingly un-Gothic simplicity and the gentle melancholy of the sixteenth of the series. Rêve d’amour (“Dream of Love”), with its shifting harmonies, and conclusion marked "palpitan", ends the set.

The third suite, which has the title Enseignement du piano (“Piano Instruction”) starts with an expressive melody for the right hand, based on a repeated rhythmic figure. The following Prelude is a morning prayer, Prière du matin (“Morning Prayer”), followed by a study in octaves. A gentle interlude in B-flat major gives way to Anniversaire of apparent ingenuousness, followed by a pair of Preludes, the second of which is an exercise in velocity, calling for extreme rapidity and delicacy in the right hand. A C major Prayer ends the work. naxos
Charles-Valentin Alkan (1813-1888)
1-9. 25 Preludes dans touts les tons majeur et mineurs, 1ere Suite, Op. 31
10-17. 25 Preludes dans touts les tons majeur et mineurs, 2me Suite, Op. 31
18-25. 25 Preludes dans touts les tons majeur et mineurs, 3me Suite, Op. 31
Credits :
Piano – Laurent Martin
Cover: Palais de Justice, Paris (1850) (Topographikon)

CHARLES-VALENTIN ALKAN : Etudes Opp. 12 and 76 · Le preux · Le chemin de fer (Laurent Martin) (1993) FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

The name of Alkan was once joined with Chopin, Liszt, Schumann and Brahms, as one of the greatest composers for the piano in the age that followed the death of Beethoven. At the same time he won praise as one of the most remarkable pianists of his time. Nevertheless much of his life was spent in eccentric obscurity, withdrawn from society. In recent years there has been a revival of interest in his music, led at the beginning of the twentieth century by Busoni and furthered by other champions. This interest has yet to result in any widespread attention to Alkan among performers, for whom he often presents very considerable technical problems.

Alkan was born Charles-Valentin Morhange, the eldest of the five children of Alkan Morhange, a music-teacher whose forebears had settled in Paris in the Marais, the Jewish quarter of the city. He and his brothers chose to use their father's name in preference to the family name and all were to make their careers in music in one way or another. Charles-Valentin Alkan made his first concert appearance as a violinist at the age of seven in 1821. At the Conservatoire he was a piano pupil of Joseph Zimmermann, future father-in-law of Gounod and teacher of Bizet and César Franck, and won considerable success as a child prodigy, exciting even the admiration of Cherubini. He enjoyed the particular favour of aristocratic patrons, including the Princess de la Moskova and other members of the Russian circle in Paris, his success prejudiced to his momentary chagrin by the first appearance of the young Liszt. With Chopin he felt greater affinity. The two had much in common, and both were to become respected in Paris as private teachers to the aristocracy, although Chopin never isolated himself from society, as Alkan was to, and his musical innovations were to take another form.

In the 1830s, his studies at the Conservatoire now concluded with great distinction, Alkan settied ay an apartmeny in the Place d'Orléans. He continued to busy himself as a composer, chiefly for the piano, publishing music that Schumann, indulging in his early musical journalism, found false and unnatural, these the least of his strictures. Certainly Schumann himself would have found insuperable technical difficulties in the Trois Grandes Eludes of 1838, one for left hand, one for right hand, and the third for both hands together. In March, 1838, after a series of concert appearances in Paris which had established him as a performer of the first rank, Alkan appeared in a recital with Chopin, before an enthusiastic audience. This seems to have been his last public concert for some six years, during which it was rumoured that a possible affaire with a married woman had led to the birth of a son, Elie Miriam Delaborde, the future pianist and editor of some of Alkan's music.

Alkan's concert appearances in 1844 and 1845 were followed by a further long period of silence and withdrawal from the concert platform. 1848 in particular brought a significant disappointment. Considered by many, and certainly by himself, as the clear successor to Zimmermann at the Conservatoire, he was passed over by the new Director, Auber, who chose to appoint instead Marmontel, a younger musician for whom Alkan had little respect, as is apparent from the letters he wrote supporting his own candidature, enlisting George Sand among others in his cause. He gave a concert in May, 1849, his last for the next 25 years.

Isolating himself from the general musical life of Paris, Alkan continued in the following years to teach and, intermittently, to compose. Protected from unwanted visitors by a vigilant concierge, he lived a hypochondriac bachelor existence of obvious eccentricity, continuing his long-standing interest in the scriptures and translating from the Hebrew Talmud and later from the Syriac version of the New Testament. In 1873, however, he emerged from retirement to offer a series of Six Petits Concerts de Musique Classique at the Salons Erard, with which he had had an enduring association. As in his programmes of forty years before, or those of Rubinstein's historical concerts, he offered a remarkable conspectus of keyboard music, played with a classical precision and a technique only slightly affected his years. These concert series seem to have continued intermittently until the time of his death in 1888, while the curious could hear him every Monday and Thursday at the Salle Erard, where an instrument was at his disposal.

The manner of Alkan's death has been a matter of some speculation. Although the narrative has been romantically embellished, it seems probable that he died as the result of a domestic accident, when a cupboard or book-case fell on him. Whether or not he died clutching a copy of the Talmud, retrieved from the top shelf of the collapsing book-case, is open to doubt. The story emphasises, at least, Alkan's religious and literary interests, offering an interesting inverse parallel to the flamboyant career of his contemporary Liszt, turned Abbé, who had died in lodgings in Bayreuth, attended by one of his young female pupils, in 1886.

In 1837 Alkan published a series of twelve pieces, Trois études de bravoure or Improvisations, Op. 12, Trois andantes romantiques, Op. 13, Trois morceaux dans le genre pathétique, Op. 15 and Trois études de bravoure (Scherzi), Op.16. These twelve piano pieces were issued in four volumes under the general title Douze Caprices. The studies that form the first volume had the earlier title Improvisations dans le style brillant, aptly descriptive. The first of the three, with its leaping octaves and sudden modulations, opens the door to a new world, technically and musically. It is followed by a D flat major Allegretto, initially a gentle contrast, although it increases in intensity, before the wistful ending over a sustained pedal-point. The Improvisations end with a B minor March, transforming what might otherwise have seemed trite thematic material into something much more imposing.

Le preux, Op. 17, The Valiant Knight, was published in 1844, and is again a bravura concert study, offering technical challenges to the performer, something suggested already in the choice of title, with pianist as champion. Lechemin de fer, Op. 27, The Railway, was also published in 1844,celebrating in musical terms a railway journey, a relative novelty of the period and something that was to provide material over the years for a number of other composers, intrigued by the rhythm of the machine and the whistle of the engine. Railway journeys of this kind presented possible dangers, and of these Alkan is well aware, as the train gathers by speed, before coming to a halt in safety.

The Trois grandes études, Op. 76, first appeared in 1838, although they were subsequently given the opus number of a later period. The first of these formidable studies is an A flat Fantaisie for left hand alone. An introduction is developed at an increased speed, leading to an extended final section, based on a sinister theme announced in lower register octaves. The second study, a D major Introduction, variations et finale for the right hand alone, makes still greater technical demands. The opening is in the form of a solemn introduction, with just the suggestion of a well known Schubert song in its melodic contour. The gentle theme, in A major, is followed by variations that explore changes of key and texture. The gentle staccato of the first leads to a contrapuntal F major second variation, an elaborate third in C major and a fourth of astonishing virtuosity, the final variation restoring the original key of A major, before the histrionic D major Finale. Both hands reunite in the third study in C minor, an extended rondo that presses forward with the motor impetus of a rapid tocata naxos
Charles-Valentin Alkan (1813-1888)
1-3.  3 etudes de bravoure, Op. 12
4.  Le preux (Etude de Concert), Op. 17
5.  Le chemin de fer, Op. 27
6-8.  3 grandes etudes, Op. 76
Credits :
Piano – Laurent Martin

CHARLES VALENTIN ALKAN : Chamber Music (Trio Alkan) (1992) FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

The extensive works of Charles Valentin Alkan remain largely overshadowed in international concert repertoire. Nevertheless Alkan has had his champions, such as the co-editor of his music, Isidore Philipp (1863–1958) and Ferruccio Busoni (1866–1924), who regarded him as one of the five greatest composers of piano music after Beethoven, with Chopin, Schumann, Liszt and Brahms, and shocked the Berlin public with the massive Alkan cadenza for the Third Piano Concerto of Beethoven. Others included the pianists Sergey Rachmaninov (1873–1943), Harold Bauer (1873–1951) and Egon Petri (1881–1962), who played music by Alkan, although, regrettably, only occasionally. More recently the pianist Raymond Lewenthal (1926–1988) created a sensation with his broadcasts of music by Alkan, while the English pianist Ronald Smith (1922–) remains an almost monomaniac interpreter of Alkan, as head of the London Alkan Society and author of the first monograph on the composer, published in two volumes in 1976, a notable work.

All these efforts, however, have not so far succeeded in bringing about a radical Alkan renaissance. This is partly a matter of conservative musical taste. The generation of virtuosi, piano teachers and gifted amateurs, that, since the middle of the last century, by the constant study and performance of the music of Alkan’s contemporaries Chopin, Schumann and Liszt, has established their works as of lasting cultural value in the eyes of a wider group of people, has failed to mobilise opinion in favour of Alkan. Although he was a great virtuoso of the piano, he gave few concerts, particularly after the year of fate 1848, and consequently had too few pupils of ability and generally led the life of a recluse in his native city of Paris, which he virtually never left. He published his works spasmodically over the years, living the rigorous life of one dedicated to composition.

The fact that Alkan’s works include no symphonies, operas, oratorios or songs excluded him from the usual means in his century of reaching a wider audience. Quite decisive then and now for the general receplion of Alkan’s music is also the uncompromising nature of his piano-orientated creativity, shown in his tendency to short sketches (48 Esquisses, Op. 63), his courage in tackling macro-structures of unheard of length (Etudes up to thirty minutes long), harmonic and formal irony, as it were in the manner of Prokofiev, modernistic motor impetus, as in Le chemin de fer and Allegro barbaro, perplexing banality, an anticipation of Mahler, underlying enigmatic irony, a foretaste of Satie, and, last not least, the sometimes excessive technical demands, greater than the transcendental challenge of Liszt.

The visionary strength of this Quasi-Faust, a movement title in his Piano Sonata Op. 33, is also evident in the three chamber works that Alkan wrote. The first of these, research has established (Harry Halbreich in An Alkan Reader published by Fayard in 1991), was the Trio for piano, violin and bass in G minor, Op. 30. Published in 1841, the work, possibly written sometime earlier, starts Assez largement with a theme of rhythmic energy, which is to be contrasted with a lyrical second subject. The almost continuous flow of semi-quavers is concise, with the transitions between the sections of the movement cleverly hidden. In the middle the thematic material appears in masterly simultaneous polyphony, partly the climax of the development, partly recapitulation in the major. In the Scherzo, also in G minor, there is a rapid and witty exchange between the instruments in contrast with the dark bass melody of the Trio. The G major Lentement offers novelty of formal structure. In the classical simplicity of the four-part string writing abruptly appears a piano cadenza in the manner of Tchaikovsky (Alkan notes, with a wink, “Le violon et le basse comptent”). The introduction is repeated in shorter and intenser form and a short exchange leads to an orchestral tremolo covering the extreme range of the three instruments. The Finale, in 6/8, demands above all of the pianist a tremendous perpetuum mobile. Violin and cello, for the most part in exchange each with the other, propose a motivic and rhythmic counterpoint, until the appearance of the major coda, in which the rapid semiquaver movement is taken up by the strings.

Alkan’s Violin Sonata, the Grand Duo concertant pour piano et violon, in F-sharp minor, Op. 21, was probably written about 1840. The choice of key, F-sharp minor and major and related keys, shows that the composer, who himself also played the violin to some extent, treats the violin as he did the piano, evident too in the particular lay-out of the violin part, with its octaves in the highest positions. The first movement of the sonata offers a contrast between the archaic contour of the opening and the soaring secondary theme in D major, repeated three times, the third time “avec exaltation”. The heart of the work lies, without question, in the slow movement, L’enfer (“Hell”), which offers an unprecedented vision of the darkest abyss. The extreme closely spaced dissonances in the deepest range of the piano create a song of mourning. The brilliant Finale, to be played as fast as possible, fluctuates between a hectic perpetuum mobile and a fragmented and sometimes syncopated melodic outline. Alkan dedicated his Violin Sonata, which is here presented for the first time on compact disc, to the Belgian-born violinist and composer Chrétien Urhan (1790–1845).

Among the cello sonatas of the nineteenth century, after the five by Beethoven written between 1796 and 1815 and Chopin’s Opus 65 of 1845/6 but before the two by Brahms, written in 1865 and 1886, Alkan’s Cello Sonata in E major of 1856, Op. 47, occupies an important position, significant in the development of the form. The arrangement of the string part is as rigorous as that of the violin sonatas, with four homogeneous and complementary movements. The cyclical arrangement of keys, E major, A-flat major, C major and E minor, is striking. The opening Allegro molto, in classical first movement form, starts in singing style. The expansive development section has frequent exchanges of scale passages and a working of motivic detail concentrated often into expressive fugati. The 6/8 Siciliano of the Allegrettino creates an apparently simple bass which, through surprising turns of harmony, offers a degree of uncertainty. In the rich chromaticism there lies a certain sarcasm, typical of Alkan’s humour. The Jewish believer Alkan prefaces the Adagio with a quotation from the Old Testament (Micah V. vii) “As dew from the Lord how the Jewish people endure, awaiting help from God alone”. The gently sentimental cello theme seems to be inspired by Jewish sacred music. A clearly modern rhythmic element appears against the piano cantilena in the plucked notes of the cello. The sonata ends with a virtuoso Finale alla saltarella. Here the technical demands on both players stand alone in the musical literature of the nineteenth century. The Sonata, like the Trio dedicated to James Odier, was first performed by Auguste Franchomme, the dedicatee and first performer of Chopin’s Cello Sonata, and Alkan himself in Paris on 27th April 1857. Rainer Klass, naxos
Charles-Valentin Alkan (1813-1888)
1-3.    Grand Duo Concertant In F Sharp Minor, Op. 21    (21:39)
4-7.     Sonate De Concert In E Major, Op. 47    (32:18)
8-11. Trio In G Minor, Op. 30    (21:10)
Ensemble – Trio Alkan
Cello – Bernhard Schwarz (tracks: 4 to 7, 8 to 11)
Piano – Rainer Klaas
Violin – Kolja Lessing (tracks: 1 to 3, 8 to 11)

DIETRICH BUXTEHUDE : Complete Chamber Music Vol. I · 7 Sonatas Op.1 • 7 (John Holloway · Lars Ulrik Mortensen · Jaap ter Linden) (1994) APE (image+.cue) lossless

Dietrich Buxtehude (1637-1707)

7 Sonatas Op.1

Harpsichord – Lars Ulrik Mortensen
Viola da Gamba – Jaap ter Linden
Violin – John Holloway

BUXTEHUDE : Complete Chamber Music Vol. II • 7 Sonatas Op. 27 · Sonaten Op.2 (John Holloway · Jaap Ter Linden · Lars Ulrik Mortensen) (1995) FLAC (image+.cue) lossless

Dietrich Buxtehude (1637-1707)

7 Sonatas Op. 2 · 7 –  Sonaten Op. 2 (1696)

John Holloway - Violin
Jaap Ter Linden - Viola da gamba
Lars Ulrik Mortensen - Harpsichord

DIETRICH BUXTEHUDE : Complete Chamber Music Vol. III · 6 Sonatas without opus numbers (John Holloway · Ursula Weiss · Jaap ter Linden · Mogens Rasmussen · Lars Ulrik Mortensen) (1995) APE (image+.cue) lossless

Dietrich Buxtehude (1637-1707)

6 Sonatas without opus numbers

John Holloway, Ursula Weiss : Violin
Jaap Ter Linden, Mogens Rasmussen : Viola da Gamba
Lars Ulrik Mortensen : Harpsichord, Organ

Recording : Radio House, Studio 2, on September 25-28,1994

ARENSKY : Suites For Two Pianos Nos. 1 - 5 (Daniel Blumenthal · Robert Groslot) (1994) FLAC (image+.cue) lossless

Tracklist & Credits

BÉRIOT : Violin Concertos Nos. 1, 8 & 9 (1990) FLAC (tracks+.cue), lossless

 All tracks & credits

ANTON RUBINSTEIN : Fantaisie Op. 84; Concertstück Op. 113 (1990) FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

ANTON RUBINSTEIN : Piano Concertos Nos. 1 & 2 (1992) FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

ANTON RUBINSTEIN : Piano Concertos Nos. 3 & 4 (1991) FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

ANTON RUBINSTEIN : Piano Concerto No. 5; Caprice russe (1994) FLAC (image+.cue), lossless