Catalogue Connection: 25153

MUSICWEB:
One of the advantages of music streaming is hunting through listings of recordings and picking out those which sound interesting. It was via this route that I found Andrew Wright’s first disc of operatic paraphrases on Spotify (other streaming services are available) and thoroughly enjoyed it. So, when given the opportunity to review volume II, I thought it would be a good idea. Some of the works here are obviously well known (particularly the Liszt paraphrases) whereas others are receiving their first recordings (tracks 1, 2, 3 and 8). Andrew Wright is also a transcriber as witness tracks 2 and 6, thus explaining how they are first recordings.

The disc begins with Jaëll’s ‘Rèminiscences de Norma’ after Bellini, with the title stolen from Liszt’s work of the same name. I should also point out that the work is entirely different to Liszt’s masterpiece in that it utilises many of the themes which the older composer did not use – including the famous ‘Casta diva’. The piece is not as well constructed as Liszt’s work but it does go into some interesting and different corners of the opera via some interesting (and difficult) key changes and figurations. This is by no means an easy work and Mr. Wright copes admirably with its myriad difficulties. He possesses a fine ‘singing’ tone in his playing which suits this repertoire perfectly and shows up very well here, especially in the ‘Casta diva’ section of the work.

Next follows Mr. Wright’s own transcription of ‘Col sorriso d’innocenza’ from Bellini’s opera Il Pirata, a work I am completely unfamiliar with. This is another melodious and rather lovely aria transcribed very well and beautifully played with the same singing tone I mentioned earlier. Bellini obviously knew how to write appealing melodies of this sort as this work sounds almost like a second cousin to ‘Casta diva’, a fact which is noted in the booklet. Track 3 is the pianist and pedagogue Theodor Leschitizky’s take on the finale of Lucia di Lammermoor – also arranged by Liszt in his ‘Rèminiscences de Lucia di Lammermoor”. The basic shape of the work is similar to Liszt’s but has several major differences, chief among them that it is for left hand only. Again, despite the difficulties and that it is written for only for one hand, Mr. Wright plays wonderfully. As a little game, it would be good to play this track to someone and ask them how many hands are playing – they would probably say two!

Next follows the largest work on the disc, Thalberg’s ‘Fantasy on Rossini’s Mosè in Egitto’ which has been recorded several times by various pianists – if any work of Thalberg’s could be described as often recorded, this would be it. Here, various themes are woven together and turned into a showpiece of considerable difficulty. The playing throughout is exemplary, no difficulty is missed or fudged and the whole piece holds together very well. The sections in which Thalberg uses his favourite trick of arpeggios with the tune played with the thumb (the famous 3 handed effect) are especially well played and very clear. There are moments of calm here and these are handled extremely well too. I have the score of this work but have yet to try and play it and I have to say it looks really difficult on the page! The ending, with lots of octaves and big leaps is a ferociously difficult section but all is dispatched perfectly. Wonderful playing here! Next follows Liszt’s transcription of ‘Lohengrin’s Admonition’ from Lohengrin. This isn’t often recorded and when it is, it’s usually on CDs which include all of Liszt’s Wagner transcriptions. This is a quiet and meditative short work and only rarely becomes loud. It’s especially difficult to bring out the tune when playing this piece, but that is not a problem which occurs here.

There then follows Mr. Wright’s own paraphrase on Verdi’s ‘Miserere’ – this is obviously based on the same material as Liszt’s famous example but this makes the Liszt version sound easy! There is far more complexity here but it all works very well and it is is a real showpiece, with added bass rumblings and filigree ornamentation all over the keyboard. Next follows a real rarity – a transcription by Kullak of Meyerbeer’s ‘Cavatine’ from Robert le Diable. This is another work also known in an arrangement by Liszt. I’d say that, if anything, this transcription is more difficult than Liszt’s due to the number of notes. Liszt has simpler solutions he used to transcribe the work so that it could be used as an introduction to the infamous ‘Rèminiscences De Robert le Diable’ (famously recorded by Earl Wild). But I digress. While the atmosphere in Liszt’s version is peaceful and rather beautiful, the work here is spikier and more of a stand-alone piece which presumably explains why it is more difficult. There are some lovely moments especially around 1:00, but they are more harmonically filled out and seem odd if you are familiar with the Liszt version. Nonetheless, it is marvellously played and perceptively phrased and pedalled. Unsurprisingly, the ending is different to Liszt’s as obviously this does not lead into another work.

The following track is a complete surprise – an operatic paraphrase by Saint-Saëns! This is the first recording of the ‘Concert Paraphrase on La mort de Thaïs’, since unfortunately the excellent Geoffrey Burleson on the Grand Piano label has yet to get around to this. The short section following the opening of the work requires a lot of leaping about and much detail for a lesser pianist to struggle with. The bouncy section at 0:41 is very clearly projected and comes across very well. The piece is a medley type of paraphrase in which Saint-Saëns stitches various themes together to make a potted version of the opera. The opening of the work and what follows it is mostly loud and virtuosic up until it transmogrifies into a statement of the very famous ‘Meditation’. Here the piece suddenly changes tack – this is fantastically well done and a thoroughly wonderful performance of a beautiful theme sensitively transcribed by Saint-Saëns and played by Mr. Wright. After the ‘Meditation’ the more virtuosic tone returns before returning to more peaceful territory to provide a meditative and quiet ending to the piece.

The final track on the disc is Liszt’s only real concert fantasy on Wagner’s works – all of the other transcriptions are selections of one part of the parent work, be it an aria or an overture. This work seems to be gaining in popularity as it has been recorded more often recently. I really like this work and have played it many times; however; I’m unable to play it like this as it is taken blisteringly fast! Interestingly, the chords on the first page are stuck very hard and very short which is certainly different to anyone else’s playing of the work that I’ve heard, a technique which works well and is in keeping. Despite the speed, this performance is perfectly judged and the really hard bit at 5:44 (marked ‘un poco piu mosso’, which includes the right hand jumping about and the left hand playing chords interlaced with the right hand) is phenomenal. There is a little extra flourish following the cadenza but this does not affect the work in any way and actually works rather well. The work ends suitably virtuosically with some very clearly projected playing by the left hand and detail in the chords which is easily lost in the sheer exuberance at the end of the piece.

Overall, this is a marvellous disc, perhaps best heard in bits rather than in one sitting. The cover notes are interesting and informative and the recording quality is superb – well up to the usual standards of the Divine Art label. I should also say that Andrew Wright is clearly an extremely talented and versatile performer with a lovely tone and bagsful of virtuosity. I look forward to volume 3. Can we have some Tausig or Stradal transcriptions please?

I welcomed the The Operatic Pianist in Fanfare 38:1, and my reactions, almost four years later, to a second installment are almost exactly the same. Wright is a pianist-scholar, and an aficionado of this sort of repertory, more than he is top-of-the-line technician or virtuoso. I suspect that if a Daniil Trifonov or an Evgeny Kissin were to wrap his fingers around one of these works, the capable, game, and curious Andrew Wright would come in a distant second. (For example, the repeated notes and chords in Thalberg’s Rossini Mose Fantasy verge on becoming bangy and dull—not because Wright lacks taste or imagination, I think, but because he is working so hard that it’s all that he can do to play the right notes at the right time.) His best skill is his legato playing, and that’s an essential skill to have if you are going to play and record a program of operatic transcriptions.

Wright’s presumptive second-place status is not the point, though. This kind of music is too old- fashioned for many 21st-century virtuosi to pay much attention to it. Were he still alive, Earl Wild probably would have been among Wright’s most relevant competitors. Wild died in 2010, however, so we have to thank Wright not for playing these works excellently as much as we have to thank him for playing them at all. Otherwise, they would have remained on a dusty shelf or in a musty piano bench. Little here is familiar, and there are several first recordings. In addition to the two works that Wright either composed or transcribed, the works by Alfred Jaell and Camille Saint-Saens are listed as receiving their first commercial recording here. For me, the latter was a particular treat. That’s be¬cause, for decades, one of my favorite operatic recordings (it’s on YouTube—check out those two high Ds from Kirsten!) has been the last scene from Thais as sung by Dorothy Kirsten and Robert Merrill. Saint-Saens’s concert paraphrase is no less over-the-top; it is to swoon for! I also enjoyed the Leschitizky, which is a surprisingly sensitive adaptation of the Sextet from Lucia—for left hand only!

This recording was made in Dundee, Scotland, where Wright was born. His biography doesn’t mention conservatories attended and competitions won, and it doesn’t mention performances outside of the United Kingdom. I picture Wright, then, as a largely stay-at-home pianist, not self-taught, but self-sufficient as long as there is another obscure transcription to dust off, and then to learn and per¬form. I can imagine far worse realities for a classical pianist these days. (Heck, your record company might force you to make a music video in which you are told to wear tennis shoes and a tight Armani jacket as semi-naked women cavort in the background.) So, at this rate, I am expecting The Operatic Pianist III in early 2021, and I am sure I will enjoy that one too.

{EDITORS CHOICE: DISC OF THE MONTH}
The piano transcription represented a boon for those, especially for the middle classes
who in the second half of the nineteenth century did not have the opportunity to attend the
musical theater or symphonic concerts. Several composers, among them Franz Liszt, who made his fortune this way, gave much importance to the transcription of overtures and
operatic arias.

Thus, Scottish pianist Andrew Wright presents the second volume of transcriptions
for piano in the operatic field, including, in addition to performing those composed
by Liszt, works from his bitter ‘opponent’ Sigismund Thalberg, from Alfred Jaëll, Theodore Leschetizky, Theodor Kullak and Camille Saint-Saëns and pieces by Wright himself. It is obvious that such a repertoire can be approached only by those who are able to be a great virtuoso, a refined psychologist of notes and musical nuances and a skilful storyteller.

All qualities that Andrew Wright proves to possess adequately. Therefore, not only opera lovers, but also those of great piano literature can only be impressed by these readings which includes the first recording of Saint-Saëns’ Concert Paraphrase on Massenet’s La mort de Thaïs.

The recording enhances the piano sound – dynamic, granitic, velvety at the same time, in all regsiters, the soundstage quite close with fine tonal balance even in the most convulsive passages and capable of expressing in detail the finest tonal nuances.
Artistic judgement: EXCEPTIONAL
Technical judgement: EXCEPTIONAL

Mr Wright (no relation) has an assertive touch and lets the seams show sometimes in these transcriptions of opera music. It’s an inevitable and unavoidable hazard in these sometimes ungainly operatic fantasies; but other pianists, like Mark Viner on Piano Classics (M/A 2016), hide the seams better and with caressing touch make us forget that a piano has hammers and no real ability to sustain a note like singers and orchestras.

The composer-pianist transcribers here include famous names like Liszt, Saint-Saens, and Thalberg, plus relative unknowns like Alfred Jaëll, Theodore Leschitzsky, and Theodor Kullak, plus the pianist himself. Wright’s two Lisztian arrangements, of Bellini’s ‘Col sorriso de innocenza’ from II Pirata and a paraphrase on Verdi’s ‘Miserere’ from II Trovatore, are excellent—the most desirable nine minutes here. Bellini’s bland string arpeggios are transmuted into airy triadic chords oscillating through root, 2nd, and 1st inversions floating above the left hand’s tender cantilena. Wright’s Verdi cuts out the filler and exalts in the ecstatic heart of ‘Miserere’ with thrilling pianistic pyrotechnics spanning the key¬board’s breadth.

Though Mr Wright has the prodigious technique these arrangements require, I’m not enthusiastic; his transitions and touch are too rough for me. It might appeal to fanciers of operatic piano wanting to hear arrangements not by Liszt or Thalberg. Also, the Jaëll Reminiscences de Norma, Kullak Cavatine de Robert le Diable, and Saint-Saëns Paraphrase on La Mort de Thais are first recordings. Excellent sound.

Volume I of The Operatic Pianist was reviewed in Fanfare 38:1 by Raymond Tuttle. I listened to this disc follow-up CD before reading that review and found that my reaction was very similar. There is no questioning Wright’s scholarship regarding the subject of operatic transcriptions, and one admires not only his dedication to the genre but also his own contributions to it. His transcription of music from Il pirata and Il trovatore are fine examples that do not pale in comparison with those by Liszt, Saint-Saëns, and Thalberg.

An aspect that one looks for in performances of operatic transcriptions and paraphrases is lyricism, which is supplied in abundance by Wright. His warm tone and his ability to spin a legato phrase on what is essentially a percussion instrument are very impressive. Whether it is Rienzi’s Prayer in Liszt’s transcription or “Casta diva” in Alfred Jaëll’s Réminiscences de Norma, it is clear that Wright understands that singing is the heart and soul of the music. There is something truly vocal about his playing.

The other aspect that one expects in this kind of collection is élan, a sense of abandon and pure fun. These ever-popular arrangements are meant, after all, to be showpieces. It is in that area that I feel (as did Tuttle) that Wright comes up short. I don’t think this is a problem of technical limitations, although there are moments when he seems to be at the edge of his digital facility. It feels more like a matter of temperament, an approach to the music that is all too scholarly. There are elements of wit and bravura to these pieces, moments where the pianist should give the impression of “Look what I can do!” I don’t get that impression here. I have a recording of Raymond Lewenthal playing the Thalberg Mosé Fantasy in concert, and comparing the two versions shows the difference between all-stops-pulled-out showmanship, and a lovely but reserved traversal.

It may well be a matter of temperament. Wright may just naturally be more attracted to, and in sympathy with, the lyrical element of the music.

Despite my reservation, however, I can recommend this disc. There are a number of first recordings on it (the transcriptions by Jaëll, Saint-Saëns, and Wright himself), and some others that are not often encountered. The beauty and warmth of the playing is likely to be sufficient reward for most listeners. Very natural recorded sound and superb notes round out the production.

Andrew Wright has recorded a second disc in his series of operatic transcriptions, The Operatic Pianist II (Divine Art dda 25153). Opera transcriptions were, in their day, the equivalent of pop song covers. They also provided travelling pianists with ample popular repertoire for performance. Liszt may be the best-known contributor to the form, although a great many composers dabbled in the genre.

Wright clearly has a wonderful working grasp of this repertoire and knows how to bring forward the vocal line as well as how to portray the orchestral colour that any given emotional moment requires. His playing is consistently fabulous, whether he’s pounding out Liszt’s Rienzi Fantasy or Saint-Saëns’ Concert Paraphrase on Thaïs. It’s easy to understand how these transcriptions achieved “hit” status in the time before the gramophone and digital access to opera performances.

I vividly recall an intermission feature of the Metropolitan Opera broadcasts in which the late Jorge Bolet delivered a lecture-recital—compressed into fifteen minutes—on Liszt operatic transcriptions, paraphrases and reminiscences, given Liszt’s great contribution to 19th Century pianism and his desire to extend the operatic repertory to those towns and villages throughout Europe that may have lacked an opera house. Nor was Liszt the only advocate for operatic “transmission” via the keyboard, since Sigismund Thalberg (1812-1871) contributed his own share of virtuoso transcriptions despite posterity’s having granted the garland to Liszt.

Contemporary pianist and composer Andrew Wright (rec. 11-12 April 2016) provides us a set of nine opera arrangements for solo keyboard, beginning with Reminiscences of Norma by Alfred Jaell (1832-1882). The fluttering virtuosity of the piece does not attempt to rival Liszt’s own mighty transcription, but it does include Casta diva, here set as an arioso, dramatic jewel. The use of repeated notes in the treble has the earmarks of both Gottschalk and the pianola sound from silent film accompaniment. The music of Bellini receives direct treatment from Andrew Wright (b. 1967) himself, setting the bel canto aria “Cor sorriso d’innocenza” from Il Pirata, first with a con flauto introduction and then a literal application that tests the last two fingers of the right hand. Rare enough, the Andante Finale de Lucia di Lammermoor by Theodore Leschetizky (1830-1915) for the left hand testifies to the prodigious fluency of the great pedagogue’s digital dexterity, but to an adept version of the famous sextet from the opera.

Wright continues with the largest of the offerings, Thalberg’s Fantasie sur Mose in Egito, after Rossini, a transcription noted for its sheer breadth and seriousness of purpose. Besides potent declamatory passages, the piece proffers lyric, lulling sequences of scalar ariosi, built upon Rossini’s patented crescendos. The succeeding, swaggering melody and its treatment smack of Chopin’s bravura treatment of Mozart for his own Op. 2. The last section intones the same sauntering melody Paganini exploited—here, over rounded, glittering arpeggios—for his own purposes upon the G string. Typically, the dynamic increases, as do the spectacular pyrotechnics.

Theodor Kullak (1818-1882) set the Cavatine from Meyerbeer’s Robert de Diable as one of 12 Transcriptions, Op. 6. Here, Kullak receives his first commercial recording. The Meyerbeer opera had proved enormously popular to the Paris audience of the 1830s. The Act IV Cavatina receives the usual hyper-romantic effects, rife with huge chords and tolling bass ostinatos. Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921), like Liszt, had a great reputation as a virtuoso pianist, and Saint-Saens makes a fervent, horse-back approach to his introductory material for the Concert-paraphrase on Massenet’s Thais and its denouement death-scene. For half the piece, the music resembles a Liszt transcendental etude. Then a series of bell-tones in diatonic harmony announce the “Meditation” motif from earlier in the opera, a variant on Wagner’s love-death conceit.

Liszt has the last word, via his son-in-law Wagner, to conclude with most flamboyant means. Wright applies his formidable prowess to an 1859 Fantasy on Themes from Rienzi that includes the famous “prayer” motif—set in glorious Technicolor—and the martial passages taken from the overture. Liszt adds one more motif from the tribune’s sense of honor.

Stunning piano sound courtesy of Recording engineer and editor Graeme Watt makes the entire engaging and educational, at once.

We always like this kind of CD — transcriptions of more complex works for either travelling performers or good amateurs to play. It’s comforting to know that even the great composers had to earn a crust and deliver work that could be played by amateurs, a bit like finding the drummer with a named band earns a crust doing tuition between tours.

In this case the works are transcriptions and paraphrases, which we guess is the 19th century equivalent of those Stars On 45 hits, where they mixed all the best bits up from well-known songs. A tad classier than Jive Bunny, admittedly.

This might have been the only way many people would hear great music. The sleeve notes say that in the age of the travelling virtuoso before the gramophone, these pieces allowed familiar tunes to be heard without the cost of a night at the opera.

The most significant contributors to this repertoire were Franz Liszt and Sigismund Thalberg, and clearly posterity has only been kind to one of those. In this spirit, the CD pays tribute to the lesser as well as the better-known names: Alfred Jaëll, Theodore Leschetizky and Herr Thalberg mingle with Liszt, Wagner and Saint-Saëns.

If it has a drawback (and it’s hard to really be critical on something this good), it’s that the styles range considerably, from the gentle and calming to the highly ornate, fiendishly complex. Like a modern greatest hits package, it wasn’t written to be one piece of work.

On the other hand, and this is a big plus, if you’re not too keen on opera, you get all the best bits without that caterwauling from men with beards. The playing is superb; even a non-pianist can tell that in places Wright is playing at world-class levels.

Not only is Mr Wright a top pianist, he is responsible for gathering this material: after deciding that there were many hidden gems out there, he studied the minor figures of 19th century and early 20th century piano history, which led to The Operatic Pianist, a kind of Now That’s What I call Piano Vol 1, which one review said was a “Himalayan challenge” to Wright, but (mixing climates, never mind metaphors) that he failed to wilt. This CD is the follow-up.

Christmas is coming; this might be a good gift for both piano and opera buffs.

With origins dating back to the 18th century, the opera fantasy reached its artistic peak during the 19th in the works of Liszt and Thalberg. In the second half of the century, however, the virtuoso fantasy began to lose ground to waltz paraphrases and opera-based piano music directed towards the lucrative amateur market. By the end of the First World War opera fantasies had decisively fallen from fashion. It wasn’t until the 1960s and ’70s, thanks largely to the efforts of pianists such as Raymond Lewenthal and Earl Wild, that interest in this large and significant corner of the repertory was rekindled.

Andrew Wright has made a special study of the opera fantasy both as a performer and composer, and now follows up his 2014 release ‘The Operatic Pianist’ with a second volume. Wright’s own contributions to the programme include a more or less straightforward transcription of Imogene’s second act aria from Bellini’s Il pirata and a rather more ambitious

paraphrase on the Miserere from Verdi’s Il trovatore. Not as succinct as Liszt’s treatment of the Miserere, Wright encumbers the proceedings with a curiously conspicuous extended trill and, in the manner of Liszt’s Niobe Fantasy, a hailstorm of minor thirds.

In terms of musical and pianistic invention, Alfred Jaëll’s Réminiscences de Norma falls short of the earlier fantasies of both Thalberg and Liszt inspired by the same opera. Leschetizky pads the sextet from Lucia with gratuitous arpeggios, creating a longer if less compelling musical experience. Of greater interest are Thalberg’s Moses Fantasy, one of the pieces he played during the famous Paris ‘duel’ with Liszt at the Princess Belgiojoso’s, and Saint-Saëns’s treatment of Massenet’s Thaïs, titled La mort de Thaïs. Yet in both, one wishes for a greater sense of drama and sweep, the go-for-broke sort of playing this repertory depends on. Wright admirably avoids over-playing and his pedalling is always judicious. On the other hand, his dynamic range seems constrained and, at certain critical moments, he is prone to lose the musical line, that sleight-of-hand with which pianists strive to create the illusion of legato on an instrument essentially incapable of it.

Many years ago, I would have had little interest in this CD. I maintained a healthy dislike of paraphrases, transcriptions and fantasies of any music, whether symphonic or operatic. But one day, I read how the genre developed. Back in the nineteenth century, not everyone could afford the time and expense of visiting the cultural centres of Europe. At the same time, there were few provincial orchestras. But what did exist was the grand piano. As the century progressed, this instrument was found in a greater number of houses and institutions. It was possible to hold recitals in the remotest parts of the country and for music-lovers to turn up to hear the famous virtuosos play original pieces and reworkings of the classics. Take Liszt for example. He made transcriptions of, for example, Beethoven’s Symphonies, Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique and Hummel’s Septet. These arrangements could be played at any venue and would enable provincial audiences to hear works denied to them by time, money and social standing.

If it was prohibitively expensive to promote an orchestral concert, how much more so was it to stage an opera. One cannot imagine many performances of Wagner’s Rienzi or Verdi’s Il Trovatore in Rochdale, Lyme Regis or Ryde, Isle of Wight in those days. Yet Liszt visited these three places and many more on his tours of the United Kingdom. It was an opportunity to hear the ‘famous’ tunes re-presented. So, I changed my mind, and now enjoy and appreciate this genre.

It is not the place to define a concert paraphrase and its cognates (transcription, arrangement, fantasia, réminiscences etc); they all tend to shade into each other. However, as a rule of thumb it can be regarded as a composer taking an opera (or similar) and using extracts, often the ‘best bits’, to build a new composition. Frequently, it is a string of pearls with emphasis placed on the tunes rather than subjecting a theme to development. Free forms are often used, although it is possible to utilise a rondo or modified sonata or cyclic forms. If the composer is a piano virtuoso (and most that contributed to this genre were) they will include horrendously difficult technical passages, ‘update’ the harmonies and generally make the work spectacular and jolly difficult.

The catalogues of piano music contain many composers who produced ‘Operatic Transcriptions’: these include Franz Liszt, Moritz Moszkowski, Carl Tausig, Percy Grainger, Sigismond Thalberg, Louis Brassin and Paul Pabst.

The CD opens with Alfred Jaëll’s romantically conceived ‘Réminiscences de Norma’, op.20 based on Vincenzo Bellini’s famous opera. It has been compared to the better-known work by Liszt, but Jaëll also includes the beautiful aria ‘Casta diva’ which was omitted by the Hungarian.

The first piece that the present soloist Andrew Wright has transcribed for this disc is ‘Col sorriso d’innocenza’ from Bellini’s Il Pirata. This opera was composed in 1826. Wright has produced more of an arrangement here, keeping to a literal interpretation of the score which is restrained and quite beautiful.

Theodor Leschetizky’s Andante Finale de Lucia di Lammermoor after Gaetano Donizetti, op.13 is written for left-hand alone. It is one of the calmer (but most certainly not easier)
pieces on this CD.

Sigismond Thalberg is one of the ‘big names’ in the world of operatic transcriptions. His catalogue is full of Fantasies and Grande Fantasies on a wide range of operas and other musical works. The present piece, Fantasie sur Mosè in Egitto, after Gioachino Rossini is massive in its construction and effect. There are horrendously complex pianistic configurations including fiendish octave passages, ‘sweeping arpeggios’ and extremely fast chromatic melodic patterns. I followed this piece with the score: it is utterly amazing!

Liszt is represented by two works in this disc. First up, is Lohengrin’s Admonition (‘Athmest du nicht’) after Richard Wagner. The opera itself was premiered in Weimar during 1850 with Liszt conducting, due to the composer being in political exile. It is a beautiful, ‘shimmering’ version of the tune: more a ‘literal transcription’ than a paraphrase. The other Liszt work is the Fantasy on Themes from Rienzi: it is the final number on this CD. Liszt wrote this work in 1859, eighteen years after the opera was premiered in 1841. The Fantasy makes use of three themes from the opera, including the ‘prayer theme’ from Act 5. It ends in a ‘tumultuous flurry of octaves and chordal hammer-blows.’

The second of Andrew Wright’s contributions to the genre is his paraphrase on Giuseppe Verdi’s ‘Miserere’ from Il Trovatore (1853). Wright has enumerated the technical devices used: “subsequent thematic material is liberally embellished with tremolandi, arpeggios, trills, passages in thirds, and interlocking alternate hand chords and octaves”: he has used all the appurtenances of Liszt and Thalberg, such as heavy bass chords to imitate the tolling of bells and a hugely difficult ‘moto perpetuo’ in conclusion. It is a stunning addition to the ‘paraphrase’ genre.

Theodor Kullak’s Cavatine de Robert le Diable, is one of a collection of a dozen operatic transcriptions, op.6. The liner notes remind the listener that “Meyerbeer’s Robert le Diable was one of the huge Parisian operatic successes of the1830s…” and that it is hardly surprising that more than one piano virtuoso decided to use its material in transcriptions and arrangements. These virtuosos included Franz Liszt, Adolf von Henselt, Johann Peter Pixis and Sigismond Thalberg. Kullak is best recalled for his pedagogical works such as The School of Octave Playing. Recent years have seen Hyperion release his Piano Concerto in C minor, op.55. The present Cavatina is a worthy transcription that does great service to the original music.

The Concert Paraphrase on La Mort de Thaïs after Jules Massenet by Camille Saint-Saëns is a definite pot boiler. This work is in two-halves. The first presents rapid music leading towards Thaïs’ death. This followed by a quieter section that explores the well-known (hackneyed) ‘Meditation.’

The pianist on this disc, Adrian Wright has repristinated the genre of the Operatic Paraphrase. In his biographical note, it is pointed out that he “acquired the conviction that much of the conventional repertoire is overexposed, and that there are many hidden gems to be found in the works of lesser-known composers”. Based on this opinion, Wright has made a considerable study of music composed by ‘minor’ figures from the late 19^th and early 20^th century.

Wright’s playing is superb. The sound quality of the recording is ideally balanced: every detail from the most intimate arabesque to the hammered octaves is clear and undistorted.

The liner notes are written by the pianist and are detailed, interesting and informative: I have relied heavily on them in this review, especially as some of these pieces are virtually unknown. Interestingly, more than half of these ‘paraphrases’ are receiving their “first commercial recording”.

I would recommend not listening to this CD from end to end. The style of these pieces can be overwhelming. I suggest savouring one or two at a time.

Finally, I have never been a huge enthusiast of opera. I reach my limit of enjoyment with Franz Lehar and Gilbert and Sullivan. However, I love many of the famous tunes from the works by the operatic masters. Andrew Wright’s The Operatic Pianist is the way I like to hear my opera ‘dished up’.

Divine Art is a record company that, rather than trying to be all things to all people, focuses its efforts instead on creating very special things for some people. For devotees of the rare, the neglected, the obscure and the unusual in recorded music Stephen Sutton’s Divine Art is the go-to one of a kind music boutique. One need go no further than their on-line catalogue (www.divineartrecords.com) and perusing its hundreds of titles, many showing composers one might or might not recall from one’s dreaded days in Music 101 in college.

Cases in point: Alfred Jaëll…Theodore Leschitizky…Even the name of Sigismund Thalberg sent us running to our Grove’s Dictionary of Music in order to jug one’s fading memory bank. Ah, yes! The big rival of Liszt’s!

Were it not for the larger than life musical labor of love of Scottish pianist Andrew Wright this album would have not been made. But love is not only what is at play in this CD (dda25153) but, rather, the pianistic prowess and large scale musicianship of Mr. Wright, who (begging the reader’s forgiveness for the pun) is simply the right artist for this job.

Through 67 minutes plus and nine tracks of 19th century piano music, Andrew Wright dazzles with his command and conquest of the pianistic mine fields of Liszt’s Fantasy on Themes from Wagner’s Rienzi or the endurance test Thalberg creates for the pianist in the fifteen-minute fantasy on Rossini’s Dal tuo stellato soglio, from Moses in Egypt.

The demands this repertory places on technical wizardry, including interlocking and alternating and cross-voicing from hand to hand, extended passages using massive octaves, unending arpeggios, and its call for the stamina of a sportsman are beyond the reach of any but the most valiant of pianists. Mr. Wright is one such keyboard artist.

In Wright’s own transcriptions of Bellini’s Col sorriso d’innocenza from Il Pirata, and in his Miserere, after Verdi’s from Il Trovatore, the piano not merely imitates the technical accomplishments of the great singers of these composers’ times, but inventively evokes the legendary agility, the legato singing and the bravura abandon of Patti and Malibran and Grisi and Viardot.

I asked myself: if I was not familiar with some of the music that inspires these works, would I respond in the same way to more familiar stuff?

I ventured an answer as I listened to Meyerbeer’s riff on his own Robert, toi que j’aime from Robert, le Diable. The lyricism is there and, yes, the piano version absolutely satisfied me and then re-directed me to enjoy once more a familiar piece of music. Altogether a musical win-win proposition, I dare say.

Is this Salon or Concert music? Or can it not have the same function and fulfill expectations in both musical milieus? Can we listen past the technical challenges or are they the only thing by which we measure these compositions?

These fantasies and paraphrases and reminiscences were conceived by Chopin and Liszt and Meyerbeer in the 19th Century – an era during which the salon played as important a part in musical life as the recital or concert hall. Any good music was good music back then and this music is good enough for me wherever it may be played.

Oh, how I wish to God it would get more play in the stultified concert venues of today, where the repertory encompasses just about everything from A to B and little else.

In an age in which the “intellectualization” of concert programs (in Mr. Wright’s choice of words) has subjected the concertgoer to many hours of numbing sameness, these musical tours of strength provide entertainment and solace. Our artist’s website (www.andrewwrightpianist.com), his insightfully researched liner notes, and his sound cloud evidence that this extraordinary artist has made it a lifetime mission to unearth and cultivate this repertory. Heartfelt thanks are due him.

Since the good people at Divine Art sent this CD on to us for reviewing I have played it over several times. And neither one of my two cats has left the room.