The Concert Suite was 
                completed in 1919 and written for Leopold 
                Auer - a violinist well known to the 
                Russian composer Taneyev. The two had 
                given recitals together in their early 
                careers. 
              
 
              
Taneyev’s is a fully 
                rounded romantic voice acknowledging 
                the great classical masters - especially 
                Beethoven. Of course he can also be 
                playful - is it Tchaikovsky we hear 
                in the Gavotte. Bach is glimpsed in 
                the Prelude and in the grave introduction 
                to the Fairy Tale (tr. 3). The Suite 
                is a very successful work full of strong 
                invention, fascinatingly blending Russian 
                folk culture filtered through Tchaikovsky. 
                Nevertheless it has the manner of a 
                major romantic concerto of the late 
                19th century. 
              
 
              
You may be tempted 
                to write this work off unheard simply 
                because it is a suite including variations; 
                that would be a mistake. At approaching 
                three quarters of an hour it is neither 
                a piece of virtuoso fluff nor an overblown 
                ballet. Think more in terms of an entrancingly 
                fey blend of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, 
                the Tchaikovsky suites (especially the 
                Third) and Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole. 
                Kuusisto is simply magnificent, rock 
                steady in tone, playful and sensitive 
                and he is recorded with unflinching 
                immediacy which is not to say that he 
                overpowers the orchestra. Everything 
                is rendered with a completely agreeable 
                clarity and impact. There have been 
                other versions although none are currently 
                available. Oistrakh’s once coupled on 
                EMI Matrix with Rostropovich’s HMV Miaskovsky 
                concerto is still worth tracking down 
                but Kuusisto and Ondine have nothing 
                to fear from that quarter. 
              
 
              
Taneyev’s opera on 
                the Oresteya was written between 
                1887 and 1894 and premiered at the Mariinsky 
                in October 1895. It has been recorded 
                and was first issued on LP by Deutsche 
                Grammophon (DG 2709 097) in 1979 in 
                the same month as Paliashvili’s ‘Absalom 
                and Eteri’. Olympia then reissued it 
                in 1985 on a 2 CD set. This was in a 
                version by soloists and the Chorus and 
                Orchestra of the Belorussian State Opera 
                and Ballet Theatre conducted by Tatyana 
                Kolomyzeva. One of these days I will 
                get to hear that recording but by the 
                look of things not any time soon. In 
                any event two orchestral segments have 
                gone on to live a negligible life separate 
                from the stage work: Agamemnon’s 
                March (Act II) and The Temple 
                of Apollo (Act III). The Temple 
                movement has great nobility and is done 
                here in full splendour. The Oresteya 
                Overture is not an operatic prelude. 
                It was written in 1889 in the middle 
                of Taneyev’s work on the opera. It has 
                a burly and deeply impressive majesty 
                with stunning echoes of swirling and 
                tormented late Tchaikovsky along the 
                way. Gentler inspirations can be heard 
                in the harp-led prayer at 9:05 and onwards 
                into a shimmering finale that recalls 
                Mussorgsky’s Dawn on the Neva. 
                Note-writer Jaakko Haapaniemi refers 
                to the work’s ‘brooding pathos’; I cannot 
                put it better. 
              
 
              
This is one of a series 
                of twenty CDs freshly packaged in new 
                slip cases to mark Ondine’s twentieth 
                anniversary. The original discs have 
                been selected from the Finnish company’s 
                substantial back catalogue. 
              
 
              
This is serious music 
                without severity and full of appealing 
                humanity. It is performed with stunning 
                virtuosity and complete mastery. 
              
Rob Barnett