CD: Gil Shaham and Goran Sollscher: Schubert for Two

As someone once remarked to Schubert, "Take us to your Lieder." -Tom Lehrer

When you think of Franz Schubert, what immediately comes to mind? The Trout Quintet? The Unfinished Symphony? The seemingly endless procession of recordings of Die Winterreise? Lieder performed by succeeding generations of sweet-voiced sopranos and virile baritones?

How many of you thought of the guitar? Yes, I thought that would be the reaction.

With that in mind, I was pleased to see one of my favorite CDs of the past few years back in stock: Schubert for Two, by the violinist Gil Shaham and guitarist Goran Sollscher. It consists entirely transcriptions for guitar and violin, and wait till you hear them.

Of course, this is hardly the first project these two guys have worked on together. Their collaboration on CDs for Deutsche Grammophon goes back at least 15 years -- a startling figure, as I'll always think of Gil Shaham as the kid with the fiddle.

I've talked before about Gil Shaham, his musicality and sensitivity, and what a refreshing element he has been within classical music.

His partner in crime, Sollscher, is a guitarist whose repertoire stretches dramatically in two directions: Would you believe from the Renaissance to the Mersey beat and beyond? Trust the guy to come out with interpretations of Dowland, Takemitsu, or Bach, and then come back with a delicate little rendering of Lennon and McCartney's "Michelle" or perhaps a recording of the Cavatina from The Deer Hunter.

But get these guys together to play Schubert and it's chamber music time, with Gil going after your heartstrings and Goran taking the more subtle but rewarding role. It might actually take a few minutes of listening to acknowledge it's violin paired with guitar, because at times Shaham seems to be everywhere, and it's easy to take Sollscher for granted. I love the way they just carry each other along, though, and how the selections incorporate the familiar but always seem fresh.

My favorite track is number 9, Valse noble, D. 969, No. 3, which in the space of a few minutes captures wonderfully how the two artists play as one man. So expressive and rich is the tone that I forget what instruments I'm listening to -- Strings? Woodwinds? -- and simply breathe in the music.

But I also find the performance of the Arpeggione Sonata particularly appealing, with its meltingly sweet violin passages and a guitar part arranged by Sollscher himself. In fact Sollscher adapted a number of Schubert works for the album, and you can admire the result when he goes solo for three of the tracks.

At the conclusion of more than an hour of these intimate arrangements of Schubert dances, sonatas, and other works, there is one surprise. Suffice it to say that the adaptation in question is the work of several musical figures, and it can be enjoyed from various perspectives -- spiritual, romantic, and artistic.

DVD: A Room with a View (two-disc edition)

Perhaps it's the fault of my extended family and circle of friends -- lots of creative types and movie buffs among them -- but it's almost impossible to bore me with awards programs, at least where the prizes concern theater and film. So this coming Sunday night I'll be pleased and relieved that the writers' strike is over and I can in good conscience eat up all the movie clips and suspense during the annual Academy Awards broadcast.

And during that program we will no doubt catch glimpses of several of the artists connected with A Room with a View, the Academy Award-winning adaptation of the E.M. Forster novel, brought lovingly to the screen in 1985 by James Ivory, Ismail Merchant, and Ruth Prawer Jhabvala.

Are you ever afraid that the movies you've loved will be missing their sheen when you revisit them? I have to confess I was haunted by that thought as I sat down with my DVD of A Room with a View. Certainly I'd laughed and sighed over the big-screen version and sprung for the VHS tape, now well-worn from use and lending, but what if the movie had in the meantime lost its power?

No worries. The DVD set is not only what I hoped it would be but also things I hadn't imagined at all (more on that later). Do travel along with the deliciously prim Charlotte Bartlett (Maggie Smith) and her demure young cousin, Lucy Honeychurch (Helena Bonham Carter), as they discover that their holiday in romantic Tuscany causes unexpected repercussions when they resume their lives back in England.

The movie itself is a pleasure for the senses: each beautifully composed shot, each grotesque-ornamented scene title (quite unexpected and so chuckle-inducing back in the '80s), each exquisite performance.

You know the names, you know the faces, but it's still a shock to see what an amazing cast the Merchant-Ivory team assembled, from the beautiful and vibrant Italian actors to the cream of the British stage and screen to several newcomers who would more than live up to their initial promise. Yes, that is Judi Dench, as a romance novelist, playing brilliantly off Smith, and Denholm Elliott as the large-hearted tourist Mr. Emerson, whose son, George (Julian Sands), introduces an element of genuine romance to Miss Honeychurch's quiet life. And what a treat to find Simon Callow, Helena Bonham Carter, Rupert Graves, and the great Daniel Day-Lewis in a single project at the beginning of their film careers.

With an assembly like that, there is no shortage of scene-stealers, and Simon Callow is a particular standout as the charming, affable Reverend Mr. Beebe. But it's Day-Lewis who is the revelation. Impossibly slim, ramrod erect, and totally insufferable as Cecil Vyse, the Edwardian aesthete who courts Lucy Honeychurch, Day-Lewis has the audience veering from one emotion to another and believing in the character's humanity by the end. It's astonishing to behold, and be sure to save the interview with a young Day-Lewis (included in the second disc) for viewing after the movie.

The film's other artistic pleasures include an appealing score from Richard Robbins and particularly memorable use of two luscious performances from soprano Kiri Te Kanawa: "O mio babbino caro" from Gianni Schicchi and "Chi il bel sogno di Doretta" from La Rondine. Anyone who saw the movie when it first came out remembers how it felt to watch Helena Bonham Carter walk down that Italian hillside as the passage from La Rondine cast its spell. In fact, it's difficult to think of another movie that has used classical music to such wonderful effect.

But it's not only about the music or even the acting. The cinematography and Jhabvala's screenplay are also a celebration of the visual arts. Homework assignment: Visit the two pictures referenced in the film, Leonardo da Vinci's Ginevra de' Benci and Albert Pinkham Ryder's Siegfried and the Rhine Maidens, both conveniently in the possession of the National Gallery. The links below will guide you to your destiny.

http://www.nga.gov/cgi-bin/pinfo?Object=50442+0+none

http://www.nga.gov/collection/gallery/gg68/gg68-32640.0.html

Room with a View fans may remember that Cecil Vyse rapturously compares his fiancee to the very da Vinci painting so proudly displayed in the National Gallery.

The Rhine Maidens reference is a bit harder to dig out, but if Forster doesn't explicitly refer to Albert Pinkham Ryder's painting, he does provide a vivid description of how Freddy Honeychurch, George Emerson, and Mr. Beebe cavort like Wagnerian nymphs during an impromptu dip in the Sacred Lake. James Ivory caught that scene brilliantly on film in the legendary sequence in which Callow, Graves, and Sands sacrifice dignity (and all of their clothing) for literary and cinematic authenticity. That was not what was meant by a view, by the way...

The set's special features include audio commentary -- a real pleasure and full of juicy details about the making of the film, plus cultural tidbits about the Italian and English locations. Actor Simon Callow, director James Ivory, producer Ismail Merchant, and cinematographer Tony Pierce-Roberts serve as co-commentators, and Callow is, as always, a hoot, with that distinctive plummy voice of his. James Ivory is more low-key, but don't miss the bit where he explains how you set up a shot in a picturesque Italian square while the local Communist Party is holding a rally at the same time.

The set also includes the aforementioned interview with Day-Lewis, plus one with Callow, as well as short films on the Merchant-Ivory team and A Room with a View's reception in the United States. The second disc also features a slide show of movie stills and candid shots, and on top of that there's a beautiful little booklet about the film.

Changing the tone considerably, there's also a short television film made following E.M. Forster's death in 1970. It's in black and white, it's very British, and it's a culturally and politically provocative look at the man who never allowed his novels to be filmed during his lifetime.

We can be grateful, though, that David Lean (A Passage to India), Charles Sturridge (Where Angels Fear to Tread), and James Ivory (A Room with a View, Maurice, and Howards End) got to work at precisely that task during the '80s and '90s, with critically acclaimed results. And rarely has any novel been so joyously, beautifully, and affectionately adapted as A Room with a View.

CD: King's Singers: Greatest Hits

There are days when it seems that popular culture has been taken over by some strange inverse of Hollywood's late and unlamented Hays Office: i.e., we've swapped the tyranny of repression for an even more wrong-headed race to the bottom. The free-floating mean-spiritedness in cyberspace, the bile in talk radio, the violence-saturated entertainment field -- why are we doing this to ourselves, and where will it take us?

Then I grasp a shred of hope, such as the fact that the King's Singers have been entertaining and inspiring the world for 40 years, and I stop whimpering and come out from under the bed.

And it seems to me 40 years of pure musical joy. Beginning in 1968, this unique ensemble began roaming the Earth: two countertenors, a tenor, two baritones, and a bass, all students of the choral tradition, who styled themselves the King's Singers -- fudging things a bit, given that not all of them were actually alumni of King's College at Cambridge.

The line-up of singers has varied over the years, but the mission remains the same: vocal arrangements, usually a cappella, that show off that spectacular interplay of voices.

As for their repertoire, well, what a long, strange trip that's been: sacred works of the Renaissance, Paul Simon's folk rock classics, and a lot of English, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh folk songs besides. And that, as they say, is just for starters.

Like the Comedian Harmonists (an inspiration) or even the Manhattan Transfer, the voices are the instruments here. Good diction and control of vibrato play their part, as does a generous dollop of humor -- and quite a dollop it is.

Given those traits, the King's Singers can become something of an addiction: you pick up one album, enjoy it, and then help yourself to another. Do you want Christmas carols? Lennon and McCartney tunes? Madrigals? John Rutter compositions? They've taken on them all, plus much more.

This two-disc retrospective covers a great breadth of material and focuses on the ensemble as it took shape during the first half of its life, which is to say its series of albums for EMI. You'll find treats from Madrigal History Tour, A Little Christmas Music, New Day, and Annie Laurie: Folksongs of the British Isles, among others. There are selections you'd expect from an ensemble steeped in the British vocal tradition: a hearty version of "Fine Knacks for Ladies," for example, or a wistful "Londonderry Air" (i.e., "Danny Boy"). But things really get humming when they get hold of the overture from Rossini's The Barber of Seville.

And I haven't even mentioned their take on Lionel Richie (yes, seriously).

For me, the most moving track is a song I'd never really thought much about: John David's "You Are the New Day." The other night I played and replayed the King's Singers' version of it, profoundly moved by the beauty of the harmonies and the obvious tenderness the boys brought to the material.

One more day when time is running out for everyone.
Like a breath I knew would come,
I reach for the new day.
Hope is my philosophy,
Just needs days in which to be.
Love of life means hope for me,
Borne on a new day.
You are the new day.

That's part of what we ask from music, isn't it -- beauty, the reaffirmation of our connections with each other, reflections on what has come before and what has yet to be.

Dedicated to Tom Lantos, 1928-2008.

CD: Thomas Quasthoff and Dorothea Roeschmann with Rainer Kussmaul/Berliner Barock Solisten: Bach: Dialogue Cantatas

Campaign? What campaign? What political coverage? Denial always works for me, my friends.

This week and the next you can flee the clamor of political advertising and pontificating pundits by escaping into devotion of one sort or another. Let us consider your musical alternatives.

First of all, Valentine's Day is fast approaching, and if you are A) besotted and B) not cynical (or, better yet, seeking to charm someone with the right music), Deutsche Grammophon has come to your aid by releasing an attractively priced double-disc set called Be My Valentine. It's nothing but songs of love -- or at least desire, or longing, or its fulfillment, or fleeting glimpses of the same. It includes everything from Don Giovanni's seductive duet with Zerlina to poignant selections from West Side Story to some instrumental transcriptions you'll have to hear to believe. Listen to what happens when the Cambridge Buskers do Verdi.

Of course, there are other upcoming and ongoing occasions to mark besides Valentine's Day, everything from Presidents' Day to Lent to the 1848 revolution (Some of us never forget) and much more. Again, I'll skip the politics and go right to the spiritual and musical questions, by way of Johann Sebastian Bach and the above-mentioned Dialogue Cantatas.

Do you think of passion when your thoughts turn to the good Mr. Bach, or is the term "frozen chosen" more on the mark? Well, the three cantatas here -- BWV 49, 57, and 152 -- consist of intense conversations between the voice of the divine and a human soul, and are anything but chilly. Consider these delightful sinfonias, arias, duets, and recitatives, plus that one brief, wonderful chorale from BWV 57, and suddenly contemplating the struggle between the earthly and the holy seems not a duty but a privilege.

But don't consider just the texts of the cantatas (included with the disc). Have a thought for the messengers! In those we are lucky: the German baritone Thomas Quasthoff, a singer of intelligence and sensitivity, and an emotionally intense Dorothea Roeschmann. If the latter name sounds familiar, perhaps it's because Roeschmann is featured as Countess Almaviva in Deutsche Grammophon's DVD and CD of that highly unconventional production of Le Nozze di Figaro.

Here we are on more traditional ground: Berlin's Jesus-Christus-Kirche, where Roeschmann and Quasthoff are joined by Rainer Kussmaul and the Berlin Baroque Soloists, and also, at one point, by the RIAS Chamber Choir. There's a current of joy in the performances, both from the instrumentalists and the vocalists.

The scripturally based texts -- "Blessed Is the Man" (BWV 57), "I Go and Seek with Longing" (49), and "Walk on the Road of Faith" (152) -- contain a passionate, almost sensuous spirituality that will be familiar to those of you who have read the English metaphysical poets or German baroque literature. As for the music, it is the soprano who embodies the human soul, while Jesus is voiced by the baritone. Make of that what you will!