Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta James Baillieu. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta James Baillieu. Mostrar todas las entradas
domingo, 7 de junio de 2020
lunes, 10 de diciembre de 2018
Peter Moore / James Baillieu LIFE FORCE
Don’t judge this disc by its cover. The artwork is the usual moody
monochrome of a young soloist in a vaguely industrial setting – so far,
so contemporary. But the contents are something else entirely: music
chosen by Peter Moore because, he says, it ‘feels special to me’ and
which, taken together, portrays a young trombonist with a deeply
romantic soul. There’s something disarmingly likeable about an artist
who feels as warmly about, say, Thoughts of Love – a sugar-coated
concert waltz by Arthur Pryor, formerly of Sousa’s band – as he does
about Mahler’s ‘Urlicht’, and who plays both with such genuine sympathy.
Moore is helped at every stage of the way by his duet partner,
James Baillieu – who supports him with the same sensitivity to mood and
colour that he brings to Lieder. And this is a real partnership: the way
Baillieu teases gently at the piano part of the slow movement from
Rachmaninov’s Cello Sonata, or generates a hushed, pregnant space at the
opening of Brahms’s Op 121 songs, very audibly gives Moore something to
work with and helps shape the direction of his long, carefully phrased
lines.
The Brahms, Bruch and Mahler transcriptions, with their prevailingly
sombre atmosphere, perhaps convince more fully than Schumann’s more mercurial Fantasiestücke – though Moore and Baillieu find
something distinctive to say in everything here. I hope Moore will take
it as the compliment that’s intended when I say that his pianissimo
tone in the Schumann is reminiscent of a horn. And that the two
‘lollipops’ – the Pryor and the amusingly jaunty Concerto by Friedebald
Gräfe – have just as much character, providing enjoyable contrast in a
predominantly serious (though always beautiful) recital. (Richard Bratby / Gramophone)
viernes, 4 de agosto de 2017
Benjamin Appl / James Baillieu HEIMAT
It’s a delightful selection, split up further into evocative
subheadings, which mixes songs familiar and less well known, the
expected with the unexpected. Schubert, Wolf and Brahms dominate the
larger, German part of the programme, beautifully performed. But we also
have the disarming, twinkling simplicity of Reger’s ‘Des Kindes Gebet’,
as well as Adolf Strauss’s suave ‘Ich weiss bestimmt’, presented with a
gentle pathos and sophistication that quietly underlines the tragedy of
its having been composed in Terezín – here, as throughout, the
piano-playing of James Baillieu is superb.
Appl’s move to the UK is announced in a confused whirl with Poulenc’s Hyde Park
and then a half a dozen songs in English, with a slightly more folksy
tone. You’ll have to go a long way to hear more enchanting accounts of
Britten’s ‘Greensleeves’, Ireland’s ‘If there were dreams to sell’ or
Bishop’s ‘Home, sweet home’. Appl’s English, unsurprisingly, cannot be
faulted. The two Grieg songs that make up the epilogue are outstanding,
too. But the final moments of an otherwise near-ideal account of ‘Ein
Traum’ highlight one reservation. The voice is very beautiful across a
broad range but it remains a great deal happier up to forte than above it, where it loses flexibility and can develop a slightly fuzzy, even woofy quality.
It’s an issue that will hopefully be ironed out as Appl develops. As
it is, though, there is more than enough quality in his singing, and
pleasure to be had from his musicianship and interpretative instincts,
for this charming and often moving disc to be confidently recommended. (Gramophone)
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