Jonathan Biss
Music of Schumann

Many people are high on Jonathan Biss, the young American pianist, and they are not wrong. He is still in his mid-20s, but has been famous for years. His latest disc is of Robert Schumann (EMI Classics). On this disc are three works: the Fantasy in C, “Kreisleriana,” and the Arabeske.

The Fantasy is seldom played, certainly compared with the other two — and it is a marvelous work. Mr. Biss does it justice. He is rhapsodic, but also balanced, composed. He is virtuosic, but does not let virtuosity rule — he lets musical sense rule. He displays a nice singing line, and his emotion avoids sentimentality.

The middle section of this threesectioned work has a beautiful nobility. And the last begins with great, prayerful intimacy. We feel that the music is almost too personal to listen to.

“Kreisleriana” is an eight-part work, and it reflects “many moods,” as the cliché goes. Mr. Biss expresses these moods — but mainly keeps a lid on. This is a rather restrained account, and sometimes we could use more character, more flair. The third part could be suaver, and the eighth slyer — that sort of thing.

But in the main, this is sensible, lapidary pianism, to be admired. And the Arabeske is unobjectionable and commendable. Jonathan Biss is a musical fellow — and, heavens, so is Schumann. Mr. Biss has written a liner note about him, which is graceful, frank, and understandably reverential.

Pierre Monteux
Decca & Phillips Recordings: 1956-1964

Have I got a box set for you: Pierre Monteux on seven discs, from 1956 to 1964. These were the French maestro’s final years, when he was in his seventies. The set is part of Decca’s Original Masters series, and an excellent deal. Monteux conducts a wide range of music, and three orchestras: the London Symphony Orchestra, the Vienna Philharmonic, and the Paris Conservatory Orchestra.

You may have a mental image of Monteux: portly, genial, bushy mustache — kind of a French Beecham. But have no doubt that he was a formidable and brilliant musician.

The discs begin with Baroque and Classical music, and specifically with Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 2 in B minor. Monteux is stringent and correct, while also wise and musical. The idea that no one could conduct Bach until the “period” people took over is balls.

One of the greatest performances in the set is of Elgar’s “Enigma Variations,” with the LSO. It is unbelievably stirring, and it reminds us what an inspired and well-wrought piece this is. We also have Monteux in Stravinsky: the “Firebird” Suite, “Petrouchka,” and “The Rite of Spring.” Some of us like our Stravinsky a little wilder, crazier, and more blooming. But Monteux makes his intelligent case.

And, naturally, he conducts his countrymen: Debussy and Ravel. In this music, the old master is barely surpassed.

These discs give you many hours of music — great music — in the hands of a deeply civilized and accomplished man. As I said, an excellent deal.

Rolando Villazón
“Gitano”

On Virgin Classics, Rolando Villazón has a crack at zarzuela arias – although one should be careful about using the word “crack” when speaking of a tenor. Mr. Villazón, the Mexican star, is not a cracker, and may he never be. He is a talented, exciting, open-hearted singer — and his traits are perfectly suited to zarzuela.

Zarzuela, to refresh your memory, is a form of Spanish opera, or operetta. Plácido Domingo has done much to introduce this genre to the world at large. His parents were zarzuela singers, and they ran a zarzuela company. And who should accompany Mr. Villazón on this album? Mr. Domingo, conducting the Orquesta de la Comunidad de Madrid.

Mr. Domingo is Mr. Villazón’s mentor and hero, and the younger man writes about him movingly in the CD’s liner notes. He says that this recording is “my most intimate project so far, as it brings together the music of my homeland’s mother country, my home language and the artist I most admire and from whom I have learnt the most.”

He continues, “To have made this artistic token of our friendship fills my heart with pride and joy.”

Incidentally, Mr. Villazón likes to cartoon, and the CD booklet includes one of his efforts — depicting both himself and Mr. Domingo.

Throughout the disc — called “Gitano,” or “Gypsy” — Mr. Villazón sings passionately and urgently, freely and beautifully. He lets himself go, without embarrassment, but he is always musical. And it is, indeed, a pleasure to hear him in his “home language.” He gets dialectical, too, dropping the letter “s,” for example (so that “más” becomes “má”).

Mr. Villazón is a tenor in his radiant prime, and the record companies do well to capture him — often.