Aside from being rather short on playing time for a 
          CD (an ‘offence’ exacerbated by the acreage of unrecorded Hovhaness 
          that could have been added) this is an extremely good collection. These 
          are predominantly early works (seven of the five are from the 1940s) 
          and the disc is recommendable to the curious and to the nervous explorer. 
          In some of his symphonies (and also in Mountains and Rivers Without 
          End) Hovhaness can push the envelope and challenge those who might 
          have difficulties with Ligeti, Stockhausen or Cage. There is some grit 
          in this collection. For example in The Holy City. This affords 
          a succinct essay in Hovhaness technique with its episodes of slowly 
          slaloming violin melisma (exactly as in the almost contemporaneous concert 
          overture Fra Angelico), cantorial trumpet solos and Tallis 
          Fantasia meditations for the strings. 
        
 
        
The Alleluia and Fugue must surely have influenced 
          Arnold Rosner (well worth exploring on Albany) in its blend of oriental 
          and with hints of the much later Vaughan Williams’ Concerto Grosso 
          for strings. Processional and Fugue (these bipartite titles 
          recall one of Creston’s accustomed formats) has a distinctly Armenian 
          sway with hints of temple dances and in the more ecstatic expressive 
          moments pointing towards the contemporaneous Tippett Concerto for 
          Double String Orchestra. Processional and Fugue has an undulant 
          role for the oratorical trumpet and is both florid and incisive in the 
          fugue with a most unusual (for Hovhaness) chasseur horn call. 
        
 
        
Celestial Fantasy is the earliest piece. It 
          must have been one of the few saved from the bonfire of his allegedly 
          Sibelian vanities. Middle Eastern ululation meets gravely reflective 
          music. Along the way there are moments which may remind well travelled 
          listeners of Vaughan Williams’ Dives and Lazarus Variants and 
          Shostakovich’s Razliv movement. The austere Third Rhapsody 
          ascends into a dervish-whirl, bright with hysteria and sharp as 
          a scimitar. In Memory of an Artist is a tribute to Sarah Berman 
          with a murmurous mid-range violin melody offset by pizzicato. The superbly 
          joyous string writing will appeal to those who like Warlock (Capriol) 
          and Moeran (Serenade). The adagio writing is particularly warm. 
          Among these comforting episodes you also encounter a furiously buzzing 
          stridulation. The Psalm and Fugue offers a warm cocoon of string 
          sound. Nothing strident appears. This music is closest to Finzi yet 
          offers a more passionately torrential swell. 
        
 
        
The designers and builders of this fine concert hall 
          must also take a bow alongside the engineers and orchestra. I have already 
          remarked on this superb acoustic in reviews of the symphonies of Alexander 
          Moyzes (Marco Polo). It is lively, delivering both power, transparency 
          and warmth. If you have a concert hall to design go to the team who 
          produced this one. The orchestra sounds full-bodied in this hall. 
        
 
        
Decent English only liner notes are by Steven Lowe. 
        
 
        
There is no direct comparison. Of course there are 
          other good compilations on Telarc and on Crystal. This is perhaps a 
          softer edged introduction than some although it is by no means bland. 
          Spirituality is its strong suit as are the performance and recording 
          values. If you enjoy this then by all means move on to the Crystal CDs 
          of the Majnun and St Vartan symphonies. 
          Rob Barnett