When Penderecki renounced the avant garde and all 
                  its works in the mid-1970s and threw himself like a penitent 
                  into the arms of romanticism, the cries of betrayed acolytes 
                  echoed around the musical world. Since then the composer has 
                  been the subject of much vituperation and execration from his 
                  former admirers. The appearance of each new work from him has 
                  been greeted with opprobrium from certain zealots with whom 
                  the behaviour of the apostate still clearly rankles.
                   
                  As yet, to judge by the earliest work on this CD, they should 
                  not have been altogether surprised. Written for the soundtrack 
                  of the film The manuscript found at Saragossa (not 
                  a title that screams ‘box office’), the Three pieces in 
                  old style are pure mock-Mozart, not even seen through the 
                  twentieth century lens of neo-classicism but through a sensibility 
                  that seems purely late-romantic. They are attractive pastiches, 
                  but come as a shock from the composer who not long before had 
                  completed the Threnody for the victims of Hiroshima.
                   
                  These pieces open this disc devoted to Penderecki’s music for 
                  string orchestra - with occasional wind soloists. The other 
                  work here from the 1960s is the Capriccio for oboe 
                  and strings, which Richard Whitehouse’s informative booklet 
                  note refers to as evidence of the composer’s “lighter side” 
                  even in his avant garde days. Well, it all depends 
                  how you define the “lighter side”. It is certainly very jaunty, 
                  not one thinks intended to be taken terribly seriously, but 
                  it exploits to the full the whole lexicon of oboe technique 
                  and range in a dazzling kaleidoscope of ideas and bravura 
                  passages. Thankfully it never enters the realm of overblown 
                  chords, key clicks and other more or less unmusical devices 
                  so beloved of more recent ‘experimental’ composers. It was written 
                  for Heinz Holliger. At the time he was probably one of the very 
                  few oboists in the world who could have played it. Nowadays 
                  players are made of sterner stuff, and the admirable Jean-Louis 
                  Capezzali shows no apparent difficulty in coping with everything 
                  the composer throws at him.
                   
                  The Intermezzo from eight years later comes from the 
                  years immediately before Penderecki abandoned his earlier style, 
                  and in it frankly the cracks are already beginning to show. 
                  We are presented with a gallery of all the usual avant garde 
                  string devices: divided strings microtones apart from each other, 
                  every sort of glissando and harmonic technique in the 
                  book, fast running pizzicato passages falling over 
                  each other – and all totally bereft of meaning. Penderecki had 
                  been doing this sort of thing for far too long to find anything 
                  new to say; and it is much to his credit that, unlike those 
                  of his colleagues who either proceeded to tread the same ground 
                  over and over again, or else took off into realms ever more 
                  abstruse and unfathomable, he decided to break entirely new 
                  ground and seek a reconciliation with the evolutionary trends 
                  of earlier music.
                   
                  The two Sinfoniettas are both transcriptions of other 
                  works: the first derives from the String Trio of 1991 
                  and the second from the Clarinet Quintet of 1993. 
                  Neither seems to add very much to their original chamber scoring, 
                  and to be honest it is difficult to summon up much enthusiasm 
                  for either of them. The original small scale of the music extends 
                  to these larger versions too, and despite excellent clarinet 
                  playing in the Second Sinfonietta from Artur Pachlewski, 
                  Penderecki’s inspiration remains obstinately earthbound throughout. 
                  It is pieces like this which lead one to recognise a degree 
                  of truth in the accusations of the composer’s detractors that 
                  he has never been able to recapture the imagination that he 
                  displayed in his earlier work, were it not for the existence 
                  of pieces like the Serenade to prove the contrary. 
                  For the Serenade, a work of pure neo-romanticism, is 
                  also very beautiful. The opening Passacaglia leads 
                  to a heartfelt Larghetto with soulful textures leading 
                  in turn to an impassioned climax.
                   
                  The orchestral playing under Wit is every bit as good as one 
                  would expect from his superb continuing survey of the music 
                  of Penderecki, which has brought to our notice so many works 
                  that are otherwise unrecorded and unperformed.
                   
                  Paul Corfield Godfrey