Johannes Brahms - Sonatas for Clarinet & Piano; 6 Klavierstücke, Op. 118

"The aspiration of instrumental music to gain its independence by shaking off the influence of vocal music and extra-musical references, a central issue in the aesthetic debates that raged in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, had to struggle against somewhat more conservative listening habits on the part of the public. Those extra-musical elements (deriving in large part from the heritage of eighteenth century rhetoric, from the commedia dell’arte and the theatre in general, from literature, and from opera, which remained extremely popular) were still very present, and emerge clearly when one analyses thereactions of audiences and performers, who continued to associate music with gestures, movements, expressions, characters, images.

"Although Brahms himself did not feel close to the world of opera and did not encourage frequent recourse to such external references, there are many hints to suggest that things did not always go as he would have wished. For example, in his score of the Brahms sonatas, the celebrated English clarinettist Charles Draper (1869-1952) [...] noted his impressions of the character of certain episodes: 'Trouble ahead!', 'Prayer', 'old man grumbling'. The critic and musicologist Alexander Berrsche (1880-1940), a fierce guardian of Brahmsian tradition, nonetheless used expressions like 'the frightened fluttering of a bird' in his reviews of the composer’s symphonies. Again, in her 1905 biography of Brahms, Florence May (1845-1923) has this to say of the 'Quintet, op.115': 'Here "the brooks of life are flowing as at high noon", though the tone of gentle loving regret which pervades the four movements, and holds the heart of the listener in firm grip, suggests the composer’s feeling that evening is not far from him in which no man may work.'

"Is it possible today to adopt a similar viewpoint on the music of Brahms, and to imagine a link between music and moods, feelings, characters, to go so far as actually to reconstruct a virtual dramatic action on the basis of his music? Can today’s musicians and listeners conjure up, from these sounds alone, images drawn from multiple experiences, lodged in our memories from the operas, the literature, the plays we have known? Many of these art forms have over time acquired an expressive, often dramatic dimension, and have become part of a collective imagination which earlier listeners were doubtless capable of calling upon.

"In the examples that follow, the association of musical gestures with concrete personalities, characters and images is totally arbitrary and without direct historical reference. It is merely a personal attempt to make those gestures tangible, as a contemporary musician or listener might have done: trouble ahead, prayers, old men grumbling, frightened birds, but also funeral bells, Orpheus and his lyre, Eurydice, Susanna and Figaro, love duets, tears and smiles, conflicts and reconciliations, farewells and welcomes.

"Op. 120 no. 1, first movement. At 4'28" (tr. 1), the sudden sforzando in the piano and the wide intervals in the clarinet suggest two people weeping and sobbing. Later on (6'37"), one has the impression, as in the second movement of Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto, of hearing Orpheus' lyre and his despairing song. All of a sudden the lyre falls silent, trombones and bassoons announce the end (7'17"), and funeral bells (7'24") accompany the abandonment of all hope, evoked by the final lament on the clarinet (7'30"). Often, around a cadence, a modulation will underline a frustration, or perhaps a surprise, introducing a new mood, a new protagonist, as in this same movement (2'57") or at 3'35" in the finale (tr. 4).

"In the Andante of op. 120 no. 1 (tr. 2), at what is perhaps one of the most moving moments in the First Sonata, two characters exchange roles: the clarinet takes over the piano line, plays the bass (2'03"), then abruptly falls silent (2'15"), leaving the piano alone, in search of its companion; the piano then hesitates among several keys, and is finally reunited with the clarinet in a consolatory A-flat major, a meeting indicated by the return of the main theme, now presented in an intimate, murmuring tone, embraced by warm arpeggios. At the very end of the movement (3'59"), the clarinet evokes the resigned attitude of someone departing into the distance – perhaps Eurydice's gentle farewell to Orpheus?

"The wide intervals in the clarinet, comical and arrogant, which boldly interrupt the piano’s attempt to start up a fugue at the beginning of the finale (tr. 4, 0'06") and the rapid detached notes that follow, as if in mockery (0'13"), are gestures typical of commedia dell'arte and opera buffa. Shortly after this the wild 'Hungarian' section (2'11") reminds us of the cafés of Budapest and Vienna and their Gypsy musicians.

"The appoggiaturas of the clarinet theme that opens op. 120 no. 2 (tr. 11) emphasise its feminine, sensual character, notably the spectacular leap at 0'12", which may remind us of the vocal virtuosity of Susanna or Fiordiligi. The second theme, a tight-knit canon, seems more evocative of the badinage of two lovers than the art of counterpoint (0'56"). Towards the end of the movement (6'42"), the touching interrupted cadence leads us into a calm, exotic E major, but the protagonists’ disquiet suddenly increases (6'48") until we reach the surprising piano subito at 6'54". This inaugurates a change of character with the wistful plaint of the clarinet, which, exhausted, is struck dumb (7'01"), followed by the piano, which also has its moment of doubt and hesitation (7'03").

"After a brief silence charged with expectation, release comes with the grandiose, even pompous coda (7'05"), built entirely from repeated elements (here again are the characteristic topoi of opera buffa), seemingly leading up to a reconciliation. But this is to some extent thwarted by the final gesture: an improbable intruder (7'39"), a comic A natural that is quite out of place in E-flat major; a smile, a nod before the door closes once and for all." (Lorenzo Coppola, tr. Charles Johnston. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Lorenzo Coppola, Andreas Staier

1. Sonata, Op. 120 No. 1 In F Minor: I. Allegro Appassionato

2. Sonata, Op. 120 No. 1 In F Minor: II. Andante Un Poco Adagio

3. Sonata, Op. 120 No. 1 In F Minor: III. Allegro Grazioso

4. Sonata, Op. 120 No. 1 In F Minor: IV. Vivace

5. Sechs Klavierstucke, Op. 118: I. Intermezzo. Allegro Non Assai, Ma Molto Appassionato

6. Sechs Klavierstucke, Op. 118: II. Intermezzo. Andante Teneramente

7. Sechs Klavierstucke, Op. 118: III. Ballade. Allegro Energico

8. Sechs Klavierstucke, Op. 118: IV. Intermezzo. Allegretto Un Poco Agitato

9. Sechs Klavierstucke, Op. 118: V. Romanze. Andante

10. Sechs Klavierstucke, Op. 118: VI. Intermezzo. Andante, Largo E Mesto

11. Sonata, Op. 120 No. 2 In E-Flat Major: I. Allegro Amabile

12. Sonata, Op. 120 No. 2 In E-Flat Major: II. Allegro Appassionato

13. Sonata, Op. 120 No. 2 In E-Flat Major: III. Andante Con Moto - Allegro - Piu Tranquillo

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Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Piano Sonatas K. 330, 331 'Alla Turca', 332

"Mozart scholars long took it for granted that the three piano sonatas K. 330-332 were written in Paris in the year 1778. However, some twenty years ago, detailed research on the only partly extant autographs made it necessary to revise this dating: both Mozart’s handwriting and the type of paper used point to 1783 as the year of composition. But it is still unclear whether Mozart composed the sonatas in Vienna, where he had been living as a freelance musician since the spring of 1781, or on a trip to Salzburg in the summer and autumn of 1783. The musicologist Alan Tyson, who also undertook the paper research, thought it more likely that they were written during his stay in Salzburg.

"Mozart set out for Salzburg in July 1783, along with his wife Constanze, whom he had married in Vienna on 4 August 1782. Since the wedding had taken place in the absence of both his father and his sister, he was obliged to introduce his wife to his closest relatives at some stage – it is probable that this 'presentation' of Constanze was his main reason for travelling to the city for which he had so little affection. Later commentators have surmised that Mozart’s father and sister gave his wife none too warm a welcome. Yet there can be little truth in this, for during their time there the whole family went to call on acquaintances in Salzburg, and passed the time with excursions, visits to the theatre, and making music together. In the three months or so that he spent in Salzburg, Mozart seems to have composed little, to judge from the fairly solid information we have. It was during this time that he wrote the two Duos for violin and viola K. 423 and K. 424, with which he is supposed to have helped Michael Haydn out of a tight corner. But the 'Mass in C minor, K. 427', specifically intended for performance in Salzburg, remained unfinished. Mozart had already made a start on the composition in the winter of 1782/83, but he wrote only two of the movements that were still lacking while in Salzburg. Perhaps he spent his time there on these three piano sonatas instead. But if he really did compose them in Salzburg, they were apparently not yet finished when he returned to Vienna in November. So much is indicated by the letter he wrote to his father from Vienna on 9 and 12 June 1784 (which incidentally is the only document in the Mozart correspondence in which these sonatas are mentioned): 'Now I have given Artaria for printing the three sonatas for solo keyboard which I once sent my sister, the first in C, the second in A, and the third in F.' If Mozart had already completed the sonatas in Salzburg, he would hardly have had to send them to his sister from Vienna.

"The quotation from this letter also shows that Mozart sent the three works to press together. They were published by the Viennese firm of Artaria in the summer of 1784 as 'Trois Sonates pour le Clavecin ou Pianoforte composèes par W. A. Mozart. Oeuvre. VI.'; the edition was advertised in the 'Wiener Zeitung' of 25 August as a 'novelty'. Mozart certainly conceived the sonatas from the beginning as a homogeneous group of three, that is to say as an 'opus'. Not only did he give the Sonatas K. 330 and K. 332 the respective headings 'Sonate I.' and 'Sonate III.', as can be seen on the extant pages of the autographs, he also coordinated the three works with regard to formal design and characteristics. The tonic keys of the three sonatas stand in a relationship of falling thirds to one another, and each sonata presents a different combination of tempo directions and time signatures in its individual movements. One need go no further than a comparison between the opening movements of the Sonatas K. 330 and K. 332 to realise Mozart’s concern with diversity of artistic resources: whereas K. 330's 'Allegro moderato' in 2/4 begins with a capricious-seeming, diatonic descending phrase, the 3/4 'Allegro' of K.332 starts with a rising melody built on a broken tonic triad, whose cantabile character makes it seem like the second subject of a sonata allegro, rather than the first. The respective themes of the slow movements of these two sonatas offer a similar contrast in design. What is more, the movements' formal layout is quite different: the ternary form of the first sonata's 'Andante cantabile' is answered, in the 'Adagio' of the third, by a sonata form without development. The only thing the two movements have in common is their great wealth of expression.

"At the centre of this trilogy stands K. 331, the most unusual of the sonatas. Not only do its three movements – theme and variations, minuet, rondo finale – represent types that occur in neither of the other two sonatas, but a sonata that opened with a variation movement was at that time something quite new in Vienna. Another special feature is the finale with its flavour of janissary music, the celebrated 'Alla Turca'. Here Mozart takes up once more the Turkish style he had already exploited in his 'Singspiel Die Entführung aus dem Serail, K.384', yet at the same time seems almost to caricature it through stylistic exaggeration. It is interesting to note that, in the first three impressions of the Artaria edition, the Alla Turca bore the unusual tempo marking 'All[e]grino', which was later changed to 'Allegretto'. Without this alteration, not a single tempo indication would have been repeated in the course of the three sonatas' total of nine movements – which was clearly Mozart’s intention.

"With the ingenious layout, sophisticated details and rich substance of his three sonatas K. 330-332, Mozart provided enough to satisfy any connoisseur (Kenner). But above all, he could use this opus 6 as a forceful reminder to the well-off Viennese amateur pianists (Liebhaber), from whom he earned his living as a teacher and performer, that he was also a composer of piano sonatas. Just why these sonatas might be attractive to potential buyers is summed up in a nutshell by an announcement in the 'Staats- und Gelehrten Zeitung des Hamburgischen unpartheyischen Correspondenten' from the year 1785: 'Three splendid sonatas which, if properly played, make an excellent effect.'" (Andreas Friesenhagen, tr. Charles Johnston. From the liner notes.)

Performer: Andreas Staier

1. Piano Sonata In C Major, K. 330: I. Allegro Moderato
2. Piano Sonata In C Major, K. 330: II. Andante Cantabile
3. Piano Sonata In C Major, K. 330: III. Allegretto
4. Piano Sonata In A Major,  K. 331 'Alla Turca': I. Andante Grazioso (Thème Et Variations)
5. Piano Sonata In A Major,  K. 331 'Alla Turca': II. Menuetto - Trio
6. Piano Sonata In A Major,  K. 331 'Alla Turca': III. Alla Turca. Allegretto
7. Piano Sonata In F Major, K. 332: I. Allegro
8. Piano Sonata In F Major, K. 332: II. Adagio
9. Piano Sonata In F Major, K. 332: III. Allegro Assai

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Richard Wagner - Götterdämmerung

"Wagner’s tetralogy, 'Der Ring des Nibelungen' ('The Ring of the Nibelung') was first performed as a whole in August 1876 at the new Festspielhaus in Bayreuth. The complete cycle consists of a Prologue, 'Das Rheingold' ('The Rhinegold'), followed the next day by 'Die Walküre' ('The Valkyrie'), and then by 'Siegfried', leading up to the final 'Götterdämmerung' ('Twilight of the Gods'). Wagner’s first sketches for the libretto of the fourth projected opera, initially under the title 'Siegfrieds Tod' ('Siegfried’s Death'), and later 'Götterdämmerung' ('Twilight of the Gods'), is dated 1848. To this he found it necessary to add an explanatory prologue, for which he made the first musical sketches in 1850. He interrupted his work in order to draft the three earlier operas of the cycle, then returning to 'Götterdämmerung', in which he now made considerable changes. The first complete draft of the work was written between 1869 and 1872 and the full score was finished in 1874. The work was first heard at Bayreuth in 1876 when the whole of the tetralogy was performed. As before, leading motifs associated with characters, events and ideas in the drama, recur, interwoven to unify the whole conception.

"The sources of the plot were found in Icelandic sagas, the 13th-century Middle High German 'Das Nibelungenlied' and the Old Norse 'Thidreks Saga af Bern', but Wagner had recourse to a wide range of other reading, while the structure of the tetralogy and the underlying theme of the curse owes a strong debt to Aeschylus and Greek tragedy." (Keith Anderson. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra, Hong Kong Philharmonic Chorus, Jaap van Zweden, Gun-Brit Barkmin, Daniel Brenna, Shenyang, Eric Halfvarson, Amanda Majeski, Michelle DeYoung

1.1. Vorspiel
1.2. Prolog: 'Welch Licht Leuchtet Dort?'
1.3. Prolog: Zwischenspiel. Tagesgrauen
1.4. Prolog: 'Zu Neuen Taten, Teurer Helde'
1.5. Prolog: 'Mehr Gabst Du, Wunderfrau'
1.6. Prolog: Siegfrieds Rheinfahrt
1.7. Aufzug I, Szene I: 'Nun Hör', Hagen, Sage Mir, Held'
1.8. Aufzug I, Szene I: 'Was Weckst Du Zweifel Und Zwist?'
1.9. Aufzug I, Szene I: 'Vom Rhein Her Tönt Das Horn'

2.1. Aufzug I, Szene II: 'Wer Ist Gibich's Sohn?'
2.2. Aufzug I, Szene II: 'Begrüße Froh, O Held'
2.3. Aufzug I, Szene II: 'Willkommen, Gast, In Gibich's Haus!'
2.4. Aufzug I, Szene II: 'Hast Du, Gunther, Ein Weib?'
2.5. Aufzug I, Szene II: 'Blut-Brüderschaft Schwöre Ein Eid!'
2.6. Aufzug I, Szene II: 'Hier Sitz' Ich Zur Wacht'
2.7. Aufzug I: Zwischenspiel (Entr'acte)
2.8. Aufzug I, Szene III: 'Altgewohntes Geräusch'
2.9. Aufzug I, Szene III: 'Seit Er Von Dir Geschieden'
2.10. Aufzug I, Szene III: 'Da Sann Ich Nach: Von Seiner Seite'
2.11. Aufzug I, Szene III: 'Blitz Und Gewölk, Vom Wind Getragen'
2.12. Aufzug I, Szene III: 'Jetzt Bist Du Mein'

3.1. Aufzug II: Vorspiel
3.2. Aufzug II, Szene I: 'Schläfst Du, Hagen, Mein Sohn?'
3.3. Aufzug II: Zwischenspiel
3.4. Aufzug II, Szene II: 'Hoiho, Hagen! Müder Mann!'
3.5. Aufzug II, Szene III: 'Hoiho! Ihr Gibichs-Mannen, Machet Euch Auf!'
3.6. Aufzug II, Szene IV: 'Heil Dir, Gunther!'
3.7. Aufzug II, Szene IV: 'Brünnhild', Die Hehrste Frau'
3.8. Aufzug II, Szene IV: 'Was Ist Ihr? Ist Sie Entrückt?'
3.9. Aufzug II, Szene IV: 'Achtest Du So Der Eig'nen Ehre?'
3.10. Aufzug II, Szene IV: 'Helle Wehr, Heilige Waffe!'
3.11. Aufzug II, Szene V: 'Welches Unholds List Liegt Hier Verhohlen?'
3.12. Aufzug II, Szene V: 'Dir Hilft Kein Hirn'

4.1. Aufzug III: Vorspiel
4.2. Aufzug III, Szene I: 'Frau Sonne Sendet Lichte Strahlen'
4.3. Aufzug III, Szene I: 'Ich Höre Sein Horn'
4.4. Aufzug III, Szene I: 'Was Leid' Ich Doch Das Karge Lob?'
4.5. Aufzug III, Szene II: 'Hoiho? - Hoihe!'
4.6. Aufzug III, Szene II: 'Mime Hieß Ein Mürrischer Zwerg'
4.7. Aufzug III, Szene II: 'Was Hör' Ich!'
4.8. Aufzug III, Szene II: 'Brünnhilde! Heilige Braut!'
4.9. Aufzug III: Zwischenspiel. Trauermarsch
4.10. Aufzug III, Szene III: 'War Das Sein Horn?'
4.11. Aufzug III, Szene III: 'Schweigt Eures Jammers'
4.12. Aufzug III, Szene III: 'Starke Scheite Schichtet Mir Dort'
4.13. Aufzug III, Szene III: 'Mein Erbe Nun Nehm' Ich Zu Eigen'
4.14. Aufzug III, Szene III: 'Fliegt Heim Ihr Raben!'
4.15. Aufzug III: Schluss

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Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji - The Complete Songs for Soprano

"Sorabji's mother (Madeleine Mathilde Sorabji, 1874?-1959) seems to have been a soprano of Spanish-Sicilian descent who apparently abandoned a singing career for family reasons. Sorabji's unpublished essay 'Concert Going Memories,' devoted mainly to singers and their art, mentions her having sung the role of Marguerite in a French production of Berlioz's 'Le Damnation de Faust' although he was too young at the time to recall specific details. Sorabji testifies to his mother's encouragement of his attending lieder recitals where he heard some of the great singers of that time, including 'the incomparable Louise Kirkby Lunn,' of whose performance he wrote of the 'utterly unique beauty of (her) voice [...] like purple velvet [...] the incomparable technique and sheer singing mastery, the transcendent distinction and beauty of her performance (which) is as vivid in my memory as it was then' (at least half a century later). Sorabji said that his mother also played piano and organ and gave him his first piano lessons when he was aged about six. There can be little doubt that she also instilled in her only child a love of fine singing which remained with him for the rest of his long life; it is reflected in many of his published reviews and essays. 

"Sorabji was no child prodigy in the conventional sense; whilst he seems to have recognised early on that his future lay in some kind of career in music, its precise directions remained unclear until his early twenties. As a boy, he absorbed large amounts of baroque, classical and romantic repertoire but his enquiring mind also led him to team much about the newest trends in music. Assimilating substantial quantities of contemporary European music was no mean feat in the inward-looking unadventurous environment of Edwardian England, a pre-gramophone age where such work was performed very rarely or not at all. Considered a multi-racial outsider (his father was a Parsi from Bombay), Sorabji must have cut an odd figure in those days, investigating with irrepressible excitement the most recent creations of composers such as Debussy, Rachmaninov, Mahler, Ravel, Bartók, Strauss, Medtner and Schönberg. He conveyed with unremitting enthusiasm the results of his discoveries and endeavoured to persuade various powers-that-were of the urgent need for such music to be heard by English audiences. There was even a story that, when barely 14, the intrepid Sorabji made a solo pilgrimage to Essen to hear the world premiere of Mahler's Sixth Symphony conducted by the composer; when I questioned him on this in the 1970s, he broke into a broad grin, obviously enjoyed the tantalising effect of his deliberate refusal to confirm or deny this rumour and gave away nothing beyond the remark 'Good story, isn't it!'. 

"A gifted pianist but pathologically reluctant performer, Sorabji was unsure what to do with this knowledge; for a time he contemplated a career as a critic and indeed managed to pursue one parallel to his life as a composer until his mid-fifties, contributing articles and reviews to 'The New Age' and 'The New English Weekly' and publishing two books of essays. Around 1915, while planning a book on Ravel, he seemed to stumble accidentally on the idea of composing his own music, a fact all the more remarkable when one considers the sheer prolixity of his output over the following seven decades. As a composer, then, Sorabji was a very late starter; although his first music was composed when he was about the same age as was Beethoven when he published his Op. 1 piano trios, whereas Beethoven had already completed many works before his first publication, it seems that Sorabji wrote nothing at all before the age of 22.

"Given his love of the voice, it might seem curious that he wrote few songs and no stage works, preferring instead to direct the majority of his energies to keyboard writing. Performance of his entire song œuvre would, for example, occupy barely one quarter of that required to present just one of his large piano works, the famous 'Opus Clavicembalisticum'. Sorabji devoted his first two years of composition entirely to songs for voice and piano and to piano concertos. With two exceptions, all his songs are for voice and piano and most feature soprano. 

"Sorabji the song composer seemed particularly drawn to the poetry of the French symbolists and their English contemporaries such as Ernest Dowson. His first ten songs were composed during World War I when his harmonic language had yet to develop into the Busoni- and Szymanowski-influenced yet highly individual one of his maturity. His principal examples at this stage seem to have been Cyril Scott, Scriabin, Ravel, Ornstein and even Roslavets. Although it is uncertain whether his youthful contemporary music researches drew the last of these into his circle of acquaintance, his contemporary writings evidence his awareness of Ornstein's more experimental music, he certainly attended Scriabin's London appearances in 1913 and was later to meet Roussel (and possibly also Ravel) in Paris. (Ornstein was, incidentally, a close contemporary of Sorabji and died only in February 2002).

"A consequence of Sorabji's desire for personal privacy and consequent reclusivity was a reluctance to speak or write about his own music; this accounts for the dearth of recorded interview material. Even in the early days, he devoted little energy to securing performances of his music; only three of the songs written during his 20s reached performance by 1921; others not until the late 1970s and 1990s; only those specified below have received public performance at all. Every song on the present CD is a recorded première.

"Of all Sorabji's articles on singing, singers and vocal repertoire, it is arguably 'The Great French Song Writers' ('Mi Contra Fa', 1947) which points most closely to many of the persuasions in his own song-writing and provides the greatest key to his thinking and ideals as a song composer.  

 

"[...] The 1941 songs almost conclude Sorabji's career as songwriter, although he continued to compose for at least another 40 years. On the strength of his finest contributions to the singer's repertoire, it seems a pity that, for so much of Sorabji's creative life, songwriting appears almost to have assumed the role of what the poet Robert Frost called 'the path not taken'." (Alistair Hinton. From the liner notes.)

Performers: Elizabeth Farnum, Margaret Kampmeier

1. Trois Poèmes: Correspondances

2. Trois Poèmes: Crépuscule Du Soir Mystique

3. Trois Poèmes: Pantomime

4. Chrysilla

5. Roses Du Soir

6. The Poplars

7. L'Heure Exquise

8. Vocalise

9. I Was Not Sorrowful

10. L'Étang

11. Hymne À Aphrodite

12. Apparition

13. (Trois Chants): Le Faune

14. (Trois Chants): Les Chats

15. (Trois Chants): La Dernière Fête Galante

16. Trois Fêtes Galantes: L'Allée

17. Trois Fêtes Galantes: À La Promenade

18. Trois Fêtes Galantes: Dans La Grotte

19. L'Irrémédiable

20. Arabesque

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Jan Ladislav Dussek - Sonatas; Fantasia and Fugue

"Dussek settled in two places in turn, both capital cities and major cultural centres: Paris and London. He arrived in Paris in 1786 and remained there till 1789, when he left in the midst of the turmoil produced by the Revolution, his departure motivated by a justified fear that his close contact with Marie Antoinette could have fatal consequences. Like so many fugitives from the political upheaval in France, he headed for London - but returned to Paris again for the last five years of his life. Dussek spent a full ten years in London, making it the longest period he stayed in any one place. And it didn't take him long to become established as one of the city's most prominent musical personalities. It was here that the four piano sonatas on this disc were written. Dussek's op. 31 consisting of a single sonata framed by two piano trios - appeared in 1795 while op. 35 was published in 1797. 

"If Dussek's biography seems to belong more in the 19th century than the 18th, the same is true of his music in many respects. Permeated as they are by heroism and triumphant antitheses, don't the first movements of the C minor and G major sonatas recall the music of Beethoven's middle period? Yet Beethoven had only just published his earliest piano sonatas, op. 2, in 1796, so Dussek can scarcely have been familiar with them. And isn't the first movement of the B-flat sonata reminiscent of Schubert in its rhapsodic approach to sonata form and its fondness for colourful modulations instead of thematic development? Yet 1797 was the year of Schubert's birth! Other features of Dussek's music point even farther into the future: a specific 'salon tone' especially evident in the last movements of op. 31/2, op. 35/1 and op. 34/2 with their hint of Bohemian folk music, takes us into the world of John Field and Chopin, both of whom were to delight Parisian high society with their Polish mazurkas some decades hence. Incidentally, one cannot help but wonder at this stage whether the Paris correspondent of the Leipzig 'Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung,' whose obituary on Dussek is quoted at the beginning of this text, was right to claim Dussek as a German composer without elaborating. For the fact is that the above-mentioned 'salon tone' actually originated in Paris or London rather than in Vienna; and moreover, surprising as it may seem, Vienna was the only major European music centre that the widely traveled virtuoso never visited. We also find a certain casualness about Dussek's compositions which is by no means typically German: consecutive fifths that could easily have been avoided are left as they are, and thematic recapitulations are often robbed of some of their clarity by minor inconsistencies that one can assume to be accidental. I have taken the liberty of doing a little retouching here and there, as I am obviously more pedantic about such matters than the composer... I am also to blame for another alteration to the original: the two movements of the B-flat sonata seem to me to have such a similar rhythm that I have been so bold as to add a brief improvised introduction before the second movement for the sake of variety. Dussek's piano writing is creative in the extreme. In comparison with the clear transparency of pre-1800 Viennese Piano music, Dussek seems altogether modern in the expansive virtuosity and full-voiced character of his writing. We have here a good example of the mutual influence of instrument and perform-er/composer on one another: the pianos of English manufacture that Dussek expressly preferred do indeed allow a much more 'modern' and expansive manner of playing than their Viennese counterparts. Both Dussek's and Clementi's music show clearly the deliberate exploitation of the potential of English pianos. Thus I was particularly fortunate to have the chance to use Jérôme Hantaï's wonderful Broadwood grand for this recording. I should like to offer special thanks to him and also to Christopher Clarke, who restored the instrument and looked after tuning etc. during the recording sessions. I very much hope that the attractive sound of the historic piano will more than compensate the listener for one or two mechanical noises that can be heard in the background. 

"Dussek left London in a hurry in 1800, as much to flee his creditors as to abandon his conjugal obligations. He made a provisional home in Hamburg, from where he undertook several concert tours to enable him to live in the extravagant style to which he was accustomed. But he was no longer a youngster, and longed for a regular, comfortable position. In 1804 he got to know Louis Ferdinand, Prince of Prussia, who engaged him both as music teacher and as musical director. The two of them evidently got on famously, with colleague Louis Spohr shaking his head over nightly bacchanalian 'orgies' (sic!)... This indulgent idyll came to an abrupt end, however, when the Prince fell in the Battle of Saalfeld in 1806. Dussek gave him a moving memorial in his 'Élegie Harmonique', the first notes of which quote the 'Consummatum est' from Haydn's 'Seven Last Words.' - Once again compelled to look elsewhere, Dussek eventually made his way to Paris, in the service of Talleyrand. He knew the city well, having spent several years there when younger, although he had moved to London ahead of the Revolution. That explains 'Le Retour À Paris' - though there is another title too. Joseph Woelfl had written a 'Ne Plus Ultra' sonata, which he saw as the last word in technical difficulty. Dussek accepted the challenge and came back with a twinkle in his eye and 'Plus Ultra.' True enough, I had to do quite a bit of practising on the outer movements... But the work has high musical ambitions too: it must be one of the earliest examples of the great romantic sonata. To end at the beginning: recitals began at that time with free prelude playing. Written down after the event, the result is something like the 'Fantasia and Fugue' in F minor, dedicated to his friend J. B. Cramer. The Fugue should be perceived more as an improvisational essay in free-ranging modulation (like most of his contemporaries' piano fugues) rather than polyphonic exaltation. Father Bach would have been amused by it at best..." (Andreas Staier, tr. Clive R. Williams; J. & M. Berridge. From the liner notes.)

Performer: Andreas Staier

1.1. Piano Sonata In B-Flat Major, Op. 35 No. 1: I. Allegro Moderato E Maestoso

1.2. Piano Sonata In B-Flat Major, Op. 35 No. 1: II. Introduzione

1.3. Piano Sonata In B-Flat Major, Op. 35 No. 1: III. Finale. Allegro Non Troppo Con Spirito

1.4. Piano Sonata In G Major, Op. 35 No. 2: I. Allegro

1.5. Piano Sonata In G Major, Op. 35 No. 2: II. Rondo. Molto Allegro Con Espressione

1.6. Piano Sonata In C Minor, Op. 35 No. 3: I. Allegro Agitato Assai

1.7. Piano Sonata In C Minor, Op. 35 No. 3: II. Adagio Patetico Ed Espressivo

1.8. Piano Sonata In C Minor, Op. 35 No. 3: III. Intermezzo. Presto

1.9. Piano Sonata In C Minor, Op. 35 No. 3: IV. Finale. Allegro Molto

1.10. Piano Sonata In D Major, Op. 31 No. 2: I. Allegro Non Tanto

1.11. Piano Sonata In D Major, Op. 31 No. 2: II. Adagio Con Espressione

1.12. Piano Sonata In D Major, Op. 31 No. 2: III. Pastorale. Allegro Non Troppo

2.1. Fantasia & Fugue, Op. 55: Fantasia

2.2. Fantasia & Fugue, Op. 55: Fugue

2.3. Piano Sonata, Op. 64 'Le Retour À Paris': Allegro Non Troppo Ed Espressivo

2.4. Piano Sonata, Op. 64 'Le Retour À Paris': Molto Adagio Con Anima Ed Espressione

2.5. Piano Sonata, Op. 64 'Le Retour À Paris': Tempo Di Minuetto - Scherzo Quasi Allegro - Trio

2.6. Piano Sonata, Op. 64 'Le Retour À Paris': Finale - Scherzo (Allegro Con Spirito)

2.7. Piano Sonata In F-Sharp Minor, Op. 61 'Elégie Harmonique': Lento Patetico - Tempo Agitato

2.8. Piano Sonata In F-Sharp Minor, Op. 61 'Elégie Harmonique': Tempo Vivace E Con Fuoco Quasi Presto

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