Richard Strauss is a canonical composer. Could there be a big piece by him you don’t know? Perhaps. Channel Classics has brought out a recording of his ballet “Josephslegende,” or “The Legend of Joseph.” It is played by the Budapest Festival Orchestra, under its founder, Iván Fischer.

Strauss composed this work for the Ballets Russes in 1913 and 1914. The scenario was worked up by his formidable librettist, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, and a man named Count Harry Kessler. (Harry’s an interesting name for a count, huh?) Their scenario concerns Joseph from the Bible, and in particular the episode between him and Potiphar’s wife, who tried to seduce him. (Joseph told her, “Nothing doing.”)

The ballet was written for the great star of the day, Vaslav Nijinsky. As we learn in the new CD’s liner notes, Nijinsky asked Strauss to compose “the least dance-like music in the world and to put pure Strauss on paper to accompany Joseph’s leaps up to God.”

In the end, Nijinsky never danced the ballet — Sergei Diaghilev, founder of the Ballets Russes, fired him, shortly before the premiere. (This is one of the most famous, or infamous, firings in the history of the arts.) But Nijinsky did have this to say about Strauss’s score, once written: “Even if God Himself were to descend to earth, He would not be able to dance to this music.”

Well, then.

It is Maestro Fischer’s opinion that, if Nijinsky had been allowed to dance the part of Joseph, “the world would now consider [the ballet] one of Strauss’s greatest masterpieces.” I’m not entirely sure about that — but it’s a fine score, well worth an acquaintance.

And it is thoroughly Straussian, utterly characteristic. You hear some of “Salome,” some of “Elektra,” some of “Der Rosenkavalier.” In short, it is Strauss.

The music tends to be pantingly Romantic, and, in its best moments, it sweeps you up. The earlier-mentioned program notes refer to “lustful melodies and magical orchestral sonorities,” and those words are apt.

According to Mr. Fischer — and he should be believed — the score is “frighteningly difficult.” And the Hungarian band brings it off well, if not with all the drama possible. A plus for the CD is that its booklet is extremely detailed, offering a blow-by-blow description of the ballet. (The CD is divided into 70 — a full 70 — tracks.)

You will not want to forget “Salome,” “Elektra,” or “Der Rosenkavalier” – or “Die Frau ohne Schatten,” “The Four Last Songs,” etc. But “Josephslegende” is unquestionably an impressive opus from a canonical pen.

IRMGARD SEEFRIED
Lieder

Bear with me for a second. Some years ago, the golf star Lee Trevino was asked how he wanted to be remembered. He said (and I paraphrase), “As a champion in the Nicklaus era.” Well, Irmgard Seefried was a champion in the Schwarzkopf era. Both she and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf were German lyric sopranos who shone in the1940s,’50s, and’60s. Theysang essentially the same repertoire. They even made a duets album together, one that is findable today (on EMI’s “Références” label).

Now Deutsche Grammophon features Seefried — who lived from 1919 to 1988 — on a two-disc set. She sings songs from Mozart to Bartók, accompanied by the late Erik Werba, a master of his craft. And Seefried is exemplary: in intelligence, voice, technique, and taste. To speak personally, she is one of my favorite singers — long has been. You can learn a lot from her. And you can enjoy her no end.

Was Trevino as great a golfer as Nicklaus? No. Was Seefried as great a singer as Schwarzkopf? Probably not. But, not terribly unlike Trevino, she was great.

BEVERLY SILLS
Various

And so was Beverly Sills (who passed away on Monday night). In fact, she was underrated. I have long thought her penalized for her general celebrity — critics and others have done this. Guest hosts of the Johnny Carson show are not supposed to be superb singers. But she was, and, more than that, she was a superb musician.

And the proof is in the discs. She once said, “If they ever ask what all the fuss was about, you can simply play them the records” — and you certainly can. I mentioned, above, intelligence, voice, technique, and taste. Sills had all those in spades. And she had so much personality, it was almost unfair.

May I mention some recordings, currently available (or most of them, anyway)? There are several anthologies. On EMI Classics, there is “The Very Best of Beverly Sills,” a two-disc set. On Deutsche Grammophon, there is another two-disc set: “The Art of Beverly Sills.” DG offers still another, called “Beverly Sills and Friends.”

Decca has a one-disc anthology in a series called “The Singers.” And Sony Classical has a collection of lightish songs: “Plaisir d’Amour.”

You can’t go wrong with any of these collections. And if you want a complete opera, think of “Julius Caesar” (RCA Victor), “Manon” (DG), and “La Traviata” (EMI). Of course, for Donizetti junkies, the Three Queens (DG) are a musthave.

I wish to mention a personal favorite, off the beaten track. In 2000, the Philadelphia Orchestra came out with a 12-CD set, to mark its centennial. On Disc 9, you will find Sills with Eugene Ormandy in Mozart’s “Exsultate, jubilate.” Outstanding.

You may also wish to track down a two-disc set from Gala called “Sillsiana.” The title comes from an encore piece: which stitches together many coloratura arias, joyfully.

There is nothing like experiencing a singer live — and I would not have missed Beverly Sills. But the discs do, indeed, tell us what all the fuss was about, over that redhead from Brooklyn, who retired from singing in 1980, after a pathbreaking and glittering career, and who continued to enrich our lives for lots of years more.