Posted in Classical on Sep 8th, 2008 1 Comment »
The music of Cesar Franck never meant much to me until I heard this played by Jean-Philippe Collard at a concert at St John’s Smith Square on 13 February 1983. It was part of a programme of French piano music, including Debussy’s rarefied Estampes. Collard himself cut a very Gallic figure. Tall, fine featured, matinee idol good looks. His playing of the French piano repertoire is second to none. Yet I think part of what I like about this Franck piece are its tough classical qualities, rather than any perfumed atmospherics. It is robust and forceful.
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Posted in Popular Song on Sep 7th, 2008 4 Comments »
Without doubt this is the finest recording of this popular song. It is sung straight with no embellishment or forced sentiment. It is natural and plain. It can make grown men weep in their beer. It is sung by Ada Alsop.
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Posted in Classical, Lieder on Sep 4th, 2008 No Comments »
One of my favourite Schubert songs, The Pigeon Post from Schwanengesang, and almost the last he ever composed (only The Shepherd on the Rock to come). It is a jolly song for one so close to death and a tribute to Schubert’s tenacious grip on life. It is sung here by Christian Gerhaher, from a concert I was at at Wigmore Hall, London on 22 October 2001. Gerhaher was taught by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, the great German baritone - and it shows in the echo of the great man’s phrasing you can hear in Gerhaher’s performance, and lovely voice. The pianist is Gerold Huber.
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Posted in Canzone on Sep 2nd, 2008 No Comments »
A haunting song, Casanova, from my favourite Italian contemporary singer, Angelo Branduardi. Here are the words (my translation).
Casanova walked back to Venice like a seagull returning to its nest at night. Nostalgia accompanied him home through the perfumed shadows of women forgotten forever. Now night is coming. Now winter is coming. Casanova.
Alone and fearful, along that dusty street, he went towards the sea. Masked figures, distant seasons, illuminated gardens, reflections in the canal…. Now night is coming. Now winter is coming. Casanova.
A hundred nights, a hundred women in one life. Wonderful virgins and whores. Youth now almost an invented fairy tale…. Splendour, misery, glory and melancholy…. Now night is coming. Now winter is coming. Casanova.
As in so many of Branduardi’s songs he manages to make regret and loss seem an eternal condition.
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