György Kurtág (b. 1926)
Double Concerto, Op.27 No.2 (1989-1990)
Thomas Adès (b. 1971)
Air – Homage to Sibelius (2022)
Lieux retrouvés (2016)
Michael Tippett (1905-1998)
Triple Concerto (1978-1979)
Nicolas Altstaedt (cello, Kurtág, Lieux, Tippett), Dénes Várjon (piano, Kurtág), Anthony Marwood (violin, Air, Tippett), Lawrence Power (viola, Tippett)
Hallé Orchestra/Thomas Adès
rec. 2026, Bridgewater Hall (Kurtág, Lieux), Hallé St. Peter’s (the others), Manchester, UK
Hallé CDHLL7573 [81]

Thomas Adès, composer and conductor, is the common denominator in this terrific programme. It comprises four masterpieces of twentieth and twenty-first century music for soloists and orchestra. While there is great variety among the selections, there is also a certain commonality in the musical expression. All soloists play their role as such, but are also integrated into the orchestral score more than would be a virtuoso accompanied by larger forces.

The disc begins with one of Kurtág’s most illustrious works, his Double Concerto for Cello, Piano and Orchestra. Its composition partner, Op.27 No. 1 …quasi una fantasia…, is a piano concerto that begins with the complete first movement of Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata before veering off into Kurtág’s own strange world. In both works, he pays homage to Beethoven. For me, the Double Concerto is the stronger piece – without any actual Beethoven quotes – that stays with the listener long after it has ended.

The work is scored for a large percussion section, including two cimbaloms and two harps positioned in front with the piano on one side along with the harps. The cello is on the other side with the cimbaloms. The rest of the percussion is behind them, while the brass and strings are in balconies above the other musicians. One cannot really appreciate this if one only listens. (There are videos on YouTube that capture the layout.) Kurtág arranged the musicians thus to enhance the transparency of the music. In addition to the percussion, there are pairs of the standard woodwinds and brass and two each of the normal strings plus an upright piano. Contrary to one’s expectations, much of the music is very quiet, but totally engaging. The work is divided into two principal movements; the first is subdivided into three sections.

The concerto begins quietly. The pianist plays a repeated note followed by the cello a semi-tone higher. The cello then has a contrasting lyrical passage. After two minutes, the music becomes loud and explosive. This is the beginning of the second section. The piano again plays repeated chords, and the cello has an angular theme. The music becomes more animated and eerie before the piano pounds vehemently. Later the music quiets down; piano and percussion accompany a keening theme in the cello. There is a long pause at 6:45 after which the third section commences. It contains much variety, including wild dance music, reminding me of Bartók’s Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion. The movement ends vehemently on a loud chord.

The actual second movement marked Adagio-Largo is basically a lament, reminiscent of Ligeti’s lamentos. Generally subdued and contemplative, it is absolutely mesmerizing. The concerto concludes by means of a persistent soft beat on the bass drum. The piano plays quiet two-note phrases over the beat, and initially the solo cello sings subtly above. At the end, one hears only the drum beats as the music dies away.

This performance of the Double Concerto is everything one could wish: superb musicianship by all, and an excellent orchestral balance. The sound has transparency and depth. The only other available disc with this concerto is on a highly-praised three-disc ECM set of Kurtág’s Complete Works for Ensemble and Choir, with cellist Jean-Guihen Queyras and pianist Tamara Stefanovich, who also perform the work in one of the YouTube videos. The latter shows that the forces on this new CD are every bit their equal.

Next on the disc are two works by Thomas Adès. He wrote the more recent of these, Air – Homage to Sibelius, for violinist Anne-Sophie Mutter. As its title suggests, it is not a flashy virtuoso piece. Adès describes it in Mike Wheeler’s note in the booklet as “something shaped as a single arc rather than a concerto”. Air is scored for chamber orchestra with quite an array of percussion, including tuned gongs. It is a tonal work in the form of a chaconne, which Adès sees as “an extended aria”.

The piece begins with a very high violin solo almost like a whisper before strings and piano are added. While much of the music is quiet and leisurely, it builds in intensity. Air lasts about fifteen minutes. The work’s simple design of descending notes reminds me of Pärt’s Cantus. The music can be rather melodic at times and more vehement at others. Nearing the conclusion in a more forceful passage, the violin plays an upward scale that contrasts with the downward ones earlier. The piece ends softly and harmonically with violin in high register along with flute, clarinet and bassoon. Mutter and Adès as conductor recently made an authoritative recording of Air for Alpha, which includes other works composed for her. I have heard only bits of that, but here Anthony Marwood with his light tone clearly has the measure of the piece.

Adès originally wrote the second work here, Lieux retrouvés (places revisited), in 2009 for cello and piano. Seven years later, he recast it for cello and small orchestra, the score presented here. I found the original version quite extraordinary (review): Steven Isserlis on the cello and Adès on the piano play with an intimacy somewhat lacking in the orchestral score. I have to admit, however, that the added colour of the new version also has its advantages. Ondine released the orchestral version in 2022 with cellist Tomas Nuñez and the Finnish Radio Symphony under Nicholas Collon.

Each of four “revisited places”, or four movements, represents a different place: Les eaux (the waters), La montagne (the mountain), Les champs (the fields), and La ville (the city) – cancan macabre. There is little to choose between this account and that on Ondine. Both capture the flow and sparkle of Les eaux where one can appreciate the harp accompanying the cello, and the tinkling of the glockenspiel and the high flute juxtaposed with the contrabassoon. Nuñez is recorded a little closer to the microphone, but there is little in it. Nicolas Altstaedt is effectively balanced with the orchestra, too. Altstaedt’s pizzicati are much quieter at the start of La montagne than Nuñez’s, but then become forceful. One can especially appreciate the woodwinds with the cello on the new recording, as well as the horn solo later in the movement. The thud with which this movement ends is terrific in both accounts. Nuñez’s cello solo beginning Les champs is full and warm with good vibrato, whereas Altstaedt’s vibrato is more discreet. The conclusion of this movement with the cello in high register and bells is tremendously moving in its stillness and subtlety. It sends a chill down one’s spine in Altstaedt and Adès’s account. Both performances excel in La Ville with its quotation of Offenbach, concluding the composition in high spirits. Here the more colourful orchestral version really delivers.

The longest piece on the programme is one of Michael Tippett’s greatest works. I was overwhelmed by the Triple Concerto when I first heard it in London in 1981 performed by the forces for which he wrote it: violinist György Pauk, violist Nabuko Imai and cellist Ralph Kirshbaum with Colin Davis and the London Symphony (review). Their account has been the definitive recording ever since it first appeared. I have heard and owned a few others, but none of those had dissuaded me until now. The recording conducted by Thomas Adès with soloists Anthony Marwood, Lawrence Power and Nicolas Altstaedt has revised my opinion. While it will not replace the earlier recording in my affections, it will certainly join it at the top.

One of the strengths of the Davis recording, in addition to the outstanding playing of the woodwinds and brass, is how the soloists are integrated in the orchestral texture. Here the soloists sound a bit closer, but are not unduly spotlit. They are well balanced with the orchestra in a beautifully warm recording. The cello’s glissandi impress in the first movement, and there is fine depth to the orchestral sound. The bells and other percussion seem more prominent than in Davis’s account. Balinese gamelan sounds of the gongs in the third movement make an impact in both recordings, as do the percussion and brass in the second interlude. Everything coalesces in the finale. The soloists’ powerful peroration is rousing in either performance. The gongs and glockenspiel also tell. The concerto ends forcefully via a timpani whack. There is really little to choose between these two performances.

This disc deserves many hearings – for the intelligence of the programming and the excellence of the performances. It will undoubtedly be among my selections for Recording of the Year. Hallé contributes a good booklet with substantial descriptions of each work by different authors. Philip Borg-Wheeler does the honours for Kurtág; Mike Wheeler for Adès’s Air; Paul Griffiths for Lieux retrouvés; and Andrew Burn for Tippett. The booklet’s back cover wrongly lists four tracks for Air and one for Lieux retrouvés: it should, of course, be reversed. Otherwise, I have nothing but praise for this product.

Leslie Wright

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